I 


AT  E  I  L 


REX  SAT  COOLLY  AWAITING  THE  HEAR. 


WITH   KIT   CARSON 
IN  THE   ROCKIES 

A  TALE  OF  THE  BEAVER  COUNTRY 


BY 
EVERETT   McNEIL 

AUTHOR    OF    "IN    TEXAS    WITH    DAVY    CROCKETT."    "THE    HERMIT    OP    THE 

CULEBRA   MOUNTAINS."    "THE    LOST    TREASURE    CAVB." 

"THE    BOY    FORTY-NINERS,"    ETC. 


NEW    YORK 
E.  P.  BUTTON  &  COMPANY 

31  WEST  TWENTY-THIRD  STREET 


•;:  .Copyngtiti  iwr  : 

BY  E.«^j'buTTON  &<J3M 


TO  ALL  YOUTHS 

WHO  LOVE    TO    READ    OF  DARING  DEEDS 

DONE     BRAVELY    BY    ADVENTUROUS     MEN 

THIS  STORY   OF  THE  AMERICAN  TRAPPER 

IS    AFFECTIONATELY 

DEDICATED 


M18B753 


FOREWORD 

The  United  States  owes  much  to  the  trappers,  to 
the  men  who  shouldered  their  long-barreled  rifles, 
mounted  their  tough  little  horses,  slung  traps  and 
packs  on  the  backs  of  horses  and  mules,  and  went 
forth  fearlessly  into  the  wilds  of  the  then  unexplored 
wildernesses  of  the  Great  West,  lured  thither  by  the 
gold  on  the  backs  of  the  beavers  and  the  other  fur- 
bearing  animals  and  by  the  call  of  the  wild  to  their 
own  adventurous  spirits.  They  were  not  only  the 
real  finders  of  the  way  to  the  West,  but,  also,  of  the 
ways  through  the  West  to  the  Pacific  Ocean.  Long 
before  the  days  of  the  explorers,  like  Pike  and  Long 
and  Fremont,  even  before  that  adventurous  wilder- 
ness journey  of  Lewis  and  Clark,  the  trails  of  the 
trappers  had  crossed  and  recrossed  the  Rocky 
Mountains  and  the  cracks  of  their  rifles  had  been 
heard  in  their  most  hidden  fastnesses. 

The  scientifically  educated  and  literary  explorers 
came  and  saw  and  recorded;  and  then  they  told  the 
wonderful  story  of  what  they  had  seen  of  the  West 
to  the  world,  and  the  world  has  given  to  them  all  the 
honors.  The  trappers  could  not  do  this.  They  had 
no  scientific  or  literary  attainments,  and  could  not 
tell  the  world  what  they  had  seen  and  done,  and  the 
world  has  almost  forgotten  the  great  part  they 


Foreword 

played  in  the  winning  of  the  West  from  savagery  to 
civilization. 

In  the  story,  WITH  KIT  CARSON  IN  THE 
ROCKIES,  an  attempt  has  been  made  not  only  to 
picture  vividly  and  truthfully  the  picturesque  and 
adventurous  life  of  the  trapper,  but,  also,  to  indicate 
his  proper  place  in  the  history  of  the  West ;  and  it  is 
hoped  that  the  tale  will  leave  the  boy  reader  with  a 
better  understanding  of  how  the  shackles  of  the 
savagery  of  the  wilderness  were  struck  off  the  limbs 
of  the  mighty  young  giant  of  the  West,  and  with  a 
truer  appreciation  of  the  men  of  the  rifle  and  the 
trap  who  were  the  first  to  strike  a  blow  at  those 
shackles. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  COMING  OF  THE  CARAVAN  ........      i 

II.    IN  CAPTAIN  YOUNG'S  PRIVATE  OFFICE n 

III.  POM 23 

IV.  OFF  FOR  THE  MOUNTAINS 35 

V.    AN  ADVENTURE  WITH  A  GRIZZLY 44 

VI.    A  LONELY  GRAVE 56 

VII.    THE  GREAT  BUFFALO  HUNT 73 

VIII.    THE  STAMPEDE 101 

IX.    IN  THE  BEAVER  COUNTRY 113 

X.    THE  MOUNTAIN  LION 131 

XI.    TRAPPED 146 

XII.    THE  FORT  BY  THE  BIG  ROCKS 161 

XIII.  THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  VALLEY 171 

XIV.  WINTER  QUARTERS 203 

XV.    FILLING  THE  LARDER 219 

XVI.    ROUND  THE   CAMP-FIRE 226 

XVII.    BUSTER'S  GREAT  FIGHT 244 

XVIII.    THE  BIG  BULLY  OF  THE  MOUNTAINS 259 

XIX.    THE  KILLING  OF  THE  BUCK  ELK 278 

XX.    THE  AMBUSCADE 302 

XXI.    THE  DEVIL'S  MOUTH 312 

XXII.  THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  PAPERS  .     .     .    ..    M    ...    .     .  322 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

REX  SAT  COOLLY  AWAITING  THE  BEAK  ....     Frontispiece    52 

DILL  HURLED  HIMSELF  AT  THE  MAN'S  LEGS 29 

REX  HAD  EYES  ONLY  FOR  THE  INDIAN 81 

HALF-A-DOZEN  INDIANS  REELED  IN  THEIR  SADDLES 180 

CAPTAIN   SHUNAN,  THIS   HAS   GOT  TO   STOP 273 


With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  COMING  OF  THE  CARAVAN 

"T    OS  Americanos!"     "Los  carros!"     "La  en- 

*-*  trada  de  la  caravana!" 

With  this  cry,  first  uttered  shrilly  and  excitedly 
by  a  single  distant  voice  and  almost  instantly  echoed 
and  re-echoed  by  a  hundred  joyously  excited  men, 
women  and  children,  the  quaint  little  old-world 
town  of  Santa  Fe  awoke  suddenly  and  noisily  from 
its  afternoon  siesta  and  hurried  forth  to  welcome 
the  long  line  of  dust-covered,  weather-stained 
wagons,  toiling  mules  and  oxen,  and  tall  gaunt  sun- 
burnt men,  that  now  might  be  seen  slowly  descend- 
ing the  hills  to  the  eastward  of  the  town.  There 
were  ninety-eight  huge  canvas-topped  wagons  in 
this  caravan;  and  no  wonder  the  sight  of  their 
coming  woke  the  drowsy  old  town  into  sudden  and 
joyous  life — for,  what  bright  colored  calicoes  and 
cottons  and  rich  velvets  and  silks  and  laces 
and  sparkling  jewels  and  costly  wearing  apparel  and 
rich  housings  and  wondrous  toys  and  trinkets  might 

I 


2  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

not  these  great  wagons  hold  for  the  dark-eyed  se- 
noritas,  the  display-loving  dons,  and  the  eager  chil- 
dren! Not  for  a  long  twelvemonth  had  so  large  a 
caravan  as  this  entered  Santa  Fe ;  and,  when  at  last, 
with  a  great  cracking  of  whips,  shoutings  of  men 
and  creaking  of  wheels  the  heavy  wagons  rolled 
through  the  streets  of  the  town  and  halted  in  the 
plaza  publica,  it  seemed  as  if  all  the  men,  women  and 
children  in  Santa  Fe  were  there  to  give  them  joyous 
welcome,  crowding  curiously  around  those  heavily- 
laden  wagons  and  watching  almost  in  awe  those  tall 
rugged  Americanos,  as  they  quickly  unyoked  oxen 
and  unhitched  mules  and  prepared  to  go  into  camp 
— their  long  journey  ended. 

And  the  Americanos ?  Never  was  sight  of  safe 
harbor  to  storm-tossed  sailors  more  welcomed  than 
were  the  gleaming  towers  and  flat  roofs  and  white- 
washed walls  of  Santa  Fe  to  the  eyes  of  these  stal- 
wart travelers  of  the  lonesome  plains.  For  weary 
weeks  had  that  long  line  of  wagons  crawled  its  slow 
way,  like  some  huge  white  snake,  from  Independ- 
ence on  the  Missouri  River,  across  hundreds  of 
miles  of  dreary  plains  and  deserts,  through  bridge- 
less  rivers  and  up  and  down  rocky  hills,  ever  beset 
by  bands  of  Indians  thirsting  for  their  treasures  and 
their  blood  and  wanting  only  the  opportunity  to 
take  both;  and  all,  from  the  Captain  of  the  Cara- 
van down  to  the  meanest  wagoner,  were  boisterous 
with  gladness,  when  the  last  wagon  came  to  a  halt 
in  the  public  plaza  of  Santa  Fe  and  the  long  days 


The  Coming  of  the  Caravan  3 

of  weary  traveling  and  nights  of  anxious  watching 
were  ended. 

"I  swun,  I  never  thought  I'd  be  as  glad  to  see  th' 
face  of  a  Mexie  as  I  be  right  now,"  declared  one  of 
the  tall  wagoners,  as  his  eyes  glanced  around  the 
crowding  circle  of  Mexicans.  "An'  them  houses, 
even  if  they  be  sawed  off  at  th'  top  with  walls  of 
mud  jest  whitewashed,  look  good — jest  like  a  picter 
from  our  old  bible,"  and  his  eyes  rested  wonder- 
ingly  on  the  quaint  old  flat-roofed  adobe  structures 
that  surrounded  the  plaza.  "But,  'tain't  no  time 
for  meditatin'  an'  lookin'.  I'm  too  powerful  anx- 
ious to  get  out  of  sight  of  these  here  wagons  for  a 
spell  an'  inside  of  one  of  them  adobe  structures  an' 
outside  of  some  of  th'  Mexies'  cookin'  to  do  any  loit- 
erin'.  Come,  yunks,  get  some  quick  jumps  into 
them  long  legs  of  yourn,  or  we'll  be  th'  last  to  get 
out  of  here,"  and  he  turned  to  two  boys,  who  stood 
close  together  near  the  wagon,  their  eyes  drinking 
in  the  animated  scene  around  them. 

There  were  six  yokes  of  huge  oxen  hitched  to  the 
great  wagon,  and  these  had  to  be  unyoked  and  hob- 
bled before  Hammer  Jones,  as  the  big  wagoner  was 
called,  would  be  at  liberty  to  "get  outside  of  some 
of  th'  Mexies'  cookin',"  as  he  put  it,  a  feat  that,  as 
has  been  already  indicated,  he  was  exceedingly  anx- 
ious to  accomplish. 

The  two  "yunks" — they  were  both  nearly  men  in 
size — at  the  words  of  the  wagoner,  jumped  to  the 
heads  of  the  oxen  and  began  unyoking  the  tired 


4  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

beasts  with  swift  practiced  hands.  They  were  even 
more  anxious  than  was  Hammer  Jones  himself  to 
get  the  work  done,  so  that  they  would  be  free,  not 
to  "get  outside  of  some  of  th'  Mexies'  cookin',"  but 
to  learn  if  the  man  they  had  come  so  far  to  find  was 
in  Santa  Fe. 

In  ten  minutes,  so  swiftly  did  the  man  and  the 
two  boys  work,  the  oxen  were  unyoked  and  hobbled 
and  driven  to  where  the  animals  were  being  cor- 
ralled under  guard  of  the  herders ;  and  our  friends 
were  free. 

"Now,"  and  Hammer  Jones — Ham,  his  friends 
called  him  and  hereafter  we  will  assume  the  priv- 
ilege of  a  friend  and  call  him  Ham — looked  with 
kindly  interest  into  the  faces  of  the  two  boys  who 
had  been  his  helpers  and  mess-companions  for  so 
many  days,  "here  we  be  at  last  in  Santa  Fe;  an' 
seein'  that  you  are  some  young  an'  uncustomed  to 
th'  ways  of  th'  Mexies,  an'  that  you've  been  mighty 
willin'  help  all  'long  from  Independence,  I  reckon 
'twon't  be  more'n  friendly  if  I  asks  you  to  sample 
some  of  th'  Mexies'  cookin'  'long  with  me,  an'  then 
give  you  a  swing  round  th'  town,  jest  to  get  you 
some  'customed  to  th'  Mexies'  ways  an'  smells,  afore 
you  goes  wanderin'  round  by  yourselves." 

"We  are  much  obliged  to  you,  Ham,"  answered 
the  younger  of  the  two  boys;  "but  Rex  and  I  are 
not  hungry,"  and  he  glanced  at  his  companion,  who 
nodded,  "and  we  are  mighty  anxious  to  get  to  the 
trading-post  of  Captain  Young  and  give  him  our 


The  Coming  of  the  Caravan  5 

message.  Father  said  we  must  go  to  him  just  as 
soon  as  we  reached  Santa  Fe.  But,"  he  added 
quickly,  as  he  noticed  the  look  of  disappointment  on 
the  countenance  of  his  big  friend,  "we  will  both  be 
very  glad  to  have  you  go  with  us  to  Captain 
Young's.  We  are  not  used  to  such — such — "  and 
the  boy  hesitated  and  glanced  uneasily  around  at  the 
gesticulating,  excited,  dark-skinned  men  and  women 
and  bright-eyed  children  thronging  about  the 
wagons. 

"Sech  a  mongrel-lookin'  lot  of  humans,"  broke  in 
Ham  laughing.  "You  see  Ingines  an'  Mexies  mix 
as  easy  as  flour  an'  water,  'till  th'  Lord  only  knows 
which  from  'tother.  I'm  powerful  sorry  you're  not 
carin'  to  eat  right  now;  but,  I  reckon  you're  right 
'bout  goin'  to  Young's  first.  Sartain,  I'll  go  with 
you,  bein'  that  I  want  to  see  Captain  Young  my- 
self ;  an'  I  reckon,  'twon't  be  none  difficult  to  find  th' 
place,  seein'  there's  his  sign  manual  over  yonder," 
and  he  pointed  over  the  heads  of  the  motley  crowd 
across  the  plaza  to  a  large  sign,  hanging  in  front  of 
a  huge  one-story  adobe  building.  "Now,  we'll  jest 
let  Captain  Tom  know  where  we're  goin',"  and,  ac- 
companied by  the  two  boys,  he  hurried  to  where 
the  Captain  of  the  Caravan  sat  on  his  horse  super- 
intending the  camping  of  the  large  caravan. 

Captain  Tom  Roberts  was  a  tall,  lean,  huge-boned 
man,  "just  skin  and  muscles  and  bones  and  grit," 
his  friends  said,  who  had  spent  three-quarters  of  the 
fifty  years  of  his  life  on  the  great  plains  and  in  the 


6  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

mountains  west  of  the  Missouri,  hunting,  trapping 
and  Indian  fighting.  Like  the  majority  of  men  of 
his  type  he  was  not  much  given  to  talking.  The 
silence  of  the  great  plains  and  the  stillness  and  the 
grandeur  of  the  mighty  mountains  had  impressed 
themselves  deeply  on  his  character.  He  had 
learned  that  the  great  things  of  God  are  never  noisy. 
But,  when  he  did  speak,  his  words  went  straight  to 
the  mark,  like  well-aimed  rifle  bullets.  He  paused 
long  enough  to  listen  to  Hammer  Jones,  gave  him 
a  quick  affirmative,  and  then,  with  a  nod  and  a  smile 
to  the  two  boys,  galloped  swiftly  off  to  where  one  of 
the  wagoners  was  having  trouble  with  his  mules. 

"Now  keep  close  ahind  me  and  we'll  go  through 
these  Mexies  like  a  gang-plow  through  a  medder/' 
and  Hammer  Jones  squared  his  broad  shoulders  and 
started  straight  for  the  trading-post,  regardless  of 
the  crowd  of  Mexicans  who  stood  in  his  way. 

The  Mexicans,  smiling,  laughing,  gesticulating 
and  talking,  parted  promptly  before  the  huge  bulk 
of  Hammer  Jones,  as  he,  closely  followed  by  the 
two  boys,  passed  through  their  midst  and  came  out 
in  front  of  Young's  trading-post. 

Around  the  door  of  the  trading-post  lounged  a 
dozen  or  more  men,  armed  with  long-barreled  rifles 
and  dressed  almost  completely  in  deerskin,  with 
fur  caps  on  their  heads,  the  tail  of  the  coon  or  of 
whatever  animal  the  cap  was  made  from  usually 
hanging  down  behind.  They  were  strong,  virile, 
fearless-looking  men,  with  an  air  of  independence 


The  Coming  of  the  Caravan  7 

and  freedom  in  striking  contrast  to  the  voluble  ser- 
vility of  the  average  Mexican.  The  two  boys  eyed 
these  men  with  eager  interest. 

"A  company  of  trappers  must  have  jest  come  in, 
or  Young's  makin'  up  a  party  to  go  out,"  commented 
Hammer  Jones  the  moment  he  saw  the  men  in  deer- 
skin. "No,  he  ain't  there,"  he  added,  after  a  mo- 
ment's swift  scrutiny  of  the  faces  of  the  men,  in 
answer  to  the  look  of  eager  inquiry  on  the  counte- 
nances the  two  boys  turned  to  him ;  "but  maybe  he's 
inside.  Leastwise  I  reckon  Young  will  come  as 
near  knowin'  where  he  is  as  any  man  hereabouts 
can,"  and  he  led  the  way  into  the  building. 

A  number  of  trappers,  a  half  dozen  Indians  and 
two  or  three  Mexicans  were  trading  or  lounging  in 
the  store,  while  three  clerks  were  busy  waiting  on 
them.  In  the  back  part  of  the  room,  talking  with 
one  of  the  trappers,  stood  a  large  man,  whose 
bronzed  face  spoke  of  the  scorching  sun  of  the  plains 
and  the  winds  and  the  storms  and  the  cold  of  the 
mountains. 

The  moment  this  man  saw  the  face  of  Hammer 
Jones  he  excused  himself  to  the  trapper,  and,  hurry- 
ing to  him,  gripped  him  warmly  by  the  hand. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Ham,  mighty  glad  to  see  you!" 
he  cried,  shaking  the  hand  vigorously.  "Come  in 
with  Captain  Tom's  caravan,  didn't  you  ?  And  the 
boys  ?"  and  he  turned  an  inquiring  face  to  the  two 
lads. 

"Come  'long  with  us,"  replied  Ham.     "They're 


8  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

from  New  O'leans,  on  a  special  mission,  an'  have  a 
message  for  you — Captain  Young,  my  two  friends, 
Rex  Holt  and  Dill  Conroyal,"  and  he  nodded  first  to 
the  elder  of  the  two  boys  and  then  to  the  other. 
"Two  as  plucky  lads  as  ever  came  out  of  a  city, 
an'  th'  best  bull-whackers  for  their  age  this  side  of 
th'  Big  Muddy.  Now,  here's  your  Captain  Young, 
lads,"  and  the  eyes  Ham  turned  to  the  two  boys 
were  glowing  with  friendliness. 

"I'm  powerful  glad  to  know  you,"  and  Captain 
Young  gripped  the  hand  of  each  boy  and  shook  it 
warmly.  "From  New  Orleans,  and  bearing  a  mes- 
sage for  me?"  and  the  keen  eyes  looked  inquiringly 
into  the  faces  of  the  two  lads. 

"Yes,"  Dill  answered,  thrusting  one  hand  into  the 
bosom  of  his  buckskin  jacket  and  bringing  out  a 
sealed  packet  wrapped  in  oiled  paper,  "I  have  a  letter 
to  you  from  father.  He  said  you  would  remember 
him.  He  once  trapped  and  hunted  with  you.  Noel 
H.  Conroyal  is  his  name,  but  you  used  to  call  him 
Con.  Here's  the  letter,"  and  he  offered  the  sealed 
packet  to  Captain  Young. 

"Remember  Con !  Con — Conroyal !  Great  Buf- 
falos,  I  should  say  I  did!  And  this  is  his  boy, 
Con's  boy!  I  must  have  another  shake!"  and  he 
again  caught  hold  of  Dill's  hand  and  shook  it  until 
the  lad  thought  he  would  loosen  his  arm  from  his 
shoulder.  "Why,  I've  hunted  and  trapped  and 
fought  Indians  with  your  dad  from  the  Missouri 
to  the  Sacramento  Valley,  and  I'd  never  ask  for  a 


The  Coming  of  the  Caravan  9 

better  comrade.  Did  he  ever  tell  you  about  the  big 
fight  we  had  with  the  grizzly  on  the  Yellowstone  ? — 
No —  Just  like  Con.  But,  see  here!"  and  the  big 
fellow  threw  open  the  bosom  of  his  woolen  shirt  until 
he  exposed  his  great  hairy  chest  and  right  shoulder. 
"That's  where  the  grizzly  had  me  when  Con  rushed 
in  and  knifed  the  brute,"  and  he  pointed  to  a  great 
scar  that  nearly  covered  his  right  shoulder  and 
chest.  "Them's  his  claw  and  teeth  marks;  and  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  Con — "  His  pause  was  expres- 
sive— "But  Con  was  there!  And  he  killed  the 
brute,  killed  him  with  his  knife.  The  only  man  I 
ever  knowed  to  kill  a  grizzly  with  a  knife.  Jumped 
right  on  top  of  his  back  while  the  beast  was  chawing 
me,  and  clung  there  where  the  brute  could  not  get 
at  him,  until  he  had  jabbed  his  knife  clean  through 
his  heart.  Oh,  but  that  was  a  great  fight!"  and 
his  eyes  sparkled.  "And  your  dad  never  told  you 
a  word  about  it!  Just  like  Con!  I'd  give  a 
mighty  lot  to  have  his  good  right  hand  in  mine 
right  now —  The  letter,"  he  ended  abruptly,  as 
if  he  were  just  a  bit  ashamed  of  the  display  he 
had  been  making  of  his  feelings;  and,  taking  the 
sealed  packet  from  Dill's  hand,  he  opened  it  and 
read  the  enclosed  letter  slowly.  For  a  moment  after 
having  finished  reading  the  letter,  Captain  Young 
stood  silent,  his  eyes  studying  the  faces  of  the  two 
boys,  while  his  own  countenance  grew  sober  and 
thoughtful;  then,  excusing  himself  to  Ham,  he 
turned  to  Rex  and  Dill. 


io          With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

"Come  with  me  to  my  office,  boys,"  he  said.  "I 
want  to  talk  over  this  letter  with  you  alone,"  and  he 
led  the  way  to  a  door  in  the  back  part  of  the  store, 
which  opened  into  his  private  office. 


CHAPTER  II 

IN  CAPTAIN  YOUNG'S  PRIVATE  OFFICE 

THE  private  office  of  Captain  Young  was  a 
large  room,  considerably  longer  than  it  was 
wide,  with  one  end  completely  filled,  from  floor  to 
ceiling,  with  tightly  packed  bales  of  the  valuable  fur 
of  the  beaver  and  the  skins  of  other  animals  taken  in 
trade.  The  remainder  of  the  room  was  the  office, 
where  a  rude  attempt  had  been  made  to  secure  com- 
fort and  adornment  by  covering  the  floor  with  the 
skins  of  bears  and  buffalos  and  hanging  on  the 
walls  trophies  of  the  wild  life  Captain  Young  had 
lived  on  the  plains  and  in  the  mountains.  In  one 
corner  of  the  room  hung  the  complete  dress  and 
equipment  of  a  once  famous  Indian  chief,  slain  by 
the  hand  of  Captain  Young  himself  in  one  of  his  nu- 
merous encounters  with  the  Blackfeet  warriors, 
while  brightly-decorated  blankets,  bows  and  arrows, 
spears,  head-dresses  of  chiefs,  deer  horns,  beaded 
moccasins,  rifles,  etc.,  hanging  in  a  picturesque  con- 
fusion very  pleasing  to  the  eye,  nearly  hid  the  rough 
walls.  Three  or  four  rudely  fashioned  chairs,  a 
large  table,  a  huge  iron-bound  chest,  and  a  small 
writing  desk  completed  the  furnishings  of  the  room. 
"Be  seated,  boys,"  Captain  Young  said,  when  the 

II 


12  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

three  were  in  this  room,  as  he  closed  the  door  and 
sat  down  in  a  large  chair  near  the  table. 

Rex  and  Dill  promptly  occupied  two  of  the  chairs, 
and  then  looked  around  the  curiously-furnished 
room  with  eager  interest.  Directly  under  Dill's 
chair,  with  his  feet  resting  within  six  inches  of  the 
head,  which  the  art  of  the  taxidermist  had  preserved 
in  all  its  savage  ferocity,  was  the  skin  of  a  monster 
grizzly  bear,  the  long  white  teeth  and  red  tongue  in 
the  wide-opened  jaws  and  the  glowing  eyes  still  de- 
fying and  threatening.  The  eyes  of  both  lads  al- 
most instantly  focused  themselves  on  this  head,  fas- 
cinated by  its  look  of  ferocious  power. 

"I  do  not  wonder  the  head  of  that  grizzly  fasci- 
nates you/'  Captain  Young  said,  as  both  boys  al- 
most simultaneously  turned  inquiring  eyes  to  his 
face;  "for  that  was  the  monster  that  came  near 
killing  me — the  bear  your  father  killed  with  his 
knife,"  and  he  nodded  to  Dill,  "the  largest  grizzly  I 
ever  saw —  But,  now,  let  us  get  down  to  business," 
and  he  opened  Mr.  Conroyal's  letter  and  spread  it 
out  on  the  table  in  front  of  him.  For  a  minute  or 
two  he  studied  the  letter,  then  he  turned  to  Rex  and 
Dill. 

"Do  you  boys  understand  what  this  letter  means 
to  you  ?"  he  asked. 

"We  have  not  read  father's  letter,"  Dill  replied; 
"but,  of  course,  we  know  why  we  are  here,  if  that 
is  what  you  mean." 

"No,  that  is  not  what  I  mean,"  Captain  Young 


In  Captain  Young's  Private  Office          13 

responded.  "I  supposed  that  you  knew  why  you 
were  here,  but  I  wondered  if  you  knew  what  you 
were  expected  to  do  now  that  you  are  here." 

"Yes,"  and  Dill's  face  lighted,  "we  know  that. 
We  are  to  find  Kit  Carson,  and  give  him  father's 
message,  and  then  we  are  to  go  with  him  to  the  mis- 
sion in  California,  and  get  the  papers  Uncle  Manuel, 
mother's  brother,  left  there,  and  return  with  them  to 
New  Orleans.  Father  said  that  if  Kit  Carson  was 
not  here,  you  would  know  where  he  was  and  how  to 
find  him,  and  would  tell  us  what  to  do." 

"Find  Kit  Carson — go  to  the  California  Mis- 
sion— get  the  papers — return  home  with  them! 
Sounds  easy,  doesn't  it,  boys  ?"  and  Captain  Young 
laughed.  "It  took  you  less  than  a  minute  to  say 
that ;  but  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  it  took  you  more 
than  a  year  to  go  through  that  program.  Find 
Kit  Carson!  Why,  the  good  Lord  alone  knows 
where  Kit  is  now,  except  that  he  is  somewhere  in  the 
Rockies ;  and  the  Rocky  Mountains  are  a  mighty  big 
proposition  for  two  boys  to  tackle." 

"But  we  must  find  him,"  broke  in  Rex.  "It 
makes  no  difference  where  he  is,  we  must  find  him. 
We  must  secure  those  papers  and  bring  them  home 
with  us ;  and  Uncle  Noel  says  Kit  Carson  is  the  only 
man  that  can  do  this,  so  we  must  find  him  and  give 
him  Uncle  Noel's  message,  no  matter  if  he  is  in  the 
Rocky  Mountains.  Uncle  Noel  said  you  would  help 


us." 


"And    so    I    will,    my    boy,"    Captain    Young 


14  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

responded  with  hearty  promptness.  "But  I  reckon 
Con  calculated  on  your  finding  Kit  here  or  at  Taos. 
Don't  seem  possible  that  he  expected  you  two  boys 
to  start  out  and  hunt  him  up  in  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, knowing  what  that  would  mean  as  well  as  Con 
does." 

"Yes,  father  hoped  and  believed  we  would  find 
Kit  Carson  here;  but/'  and  Dill's  firm  lips  tightened, 
"he  told  us  if  we  did  not  find  him  here  that  we  must 
go  where  he  was,  that  we  must  hunt  for  him  until 
we  found  him,  that  if  he  were  in  the  mountains 
hunting  and  trapping  we  must  go  there.  He  said 
that  you  would  outfit  us  and  get  the  right  kind  of 
men  to  go  with  us,  for  old  comrades'  sake,  and 
that  you  f  were  to  spare  no  expense.  Father,  you 
know,  is  wealthy  now;  and — and  we  must  have 
those  papers,  no  matter  how  much  it  costs,  no  mat- 
ter what  dangers,  what  difficulties  are  in  the  way; 
and  to  get  them  we  need  Kit  Carson's  help.  Father 
said  that  he  had  made  this  all  clear  to  you  in  his 
letter;  and  had  made  you  his  legal  representative 
here,  with  authority  to  do  whatever  was  necessary 
and  to  spend  whatever  was  needed  to  make  our  ef- 
forts a  success.  Father  would  have  come  himself; 
but  he  could  not.  He — he  broke  his  leg;  and  Rex 
and  I  had  to  come.  There  was  no  one  else  that  he 
could  send,  no  one  that  he  dared  trust  on  such  a  mis- 
sion," and  Dill  straightened  up  just  a  bit  proudly  in 
his  chair.  "And — and  we  are  not  as  young  as  we 
look.  Rex  is  past  sixteen  and  I  am  nearly  fifteen 


In  Captain  Young's  Private  Office          15 

years  old;  and  we  are  both  used  to  hunting  and 
camping  and  roughing  it  out  of  doors.  You  will  do 
what  you  can  to  help  us,  won't  you  Captain  Young?" 
and  the  eyes  Dill  turned  to  Captain  Young  were  full 
of  appeal. 

For  a  couple  of  minutes  Captain  Young  sat  si- 
lent, his  eyes  studying  the  faces  of  the  two  boys. 
Doubtless  he  was  picturing  all  that  they  would  be 
called  upon  to  brave  and  endure,  should  they  go  into 
the  mountains  in  search  of  Kit  Carson,  and  wonder- 
ing if  they  had  the  pluck  and  the  courage  needed 
to  make  such  a  venture  a  success.  Evidently  his 
scrutiny  of  the  two  faces  was  satisfactory,  for,  sud- 
denly, he  straightened  up  in  his  chair,  a  look  on  his 
face  that  seemed  to  say  "I  see  my  way  clear  now," 
and  turning  to  a  large  leather  bound  book  on  the 
table  began  turning  over  its  pages  quickly.  In  a 
moment  he  came  to  the  right  page,  bent  over  it  for 
an  instant,  and  then,  straightening  up,  turned  again 
to  the  boys. 

"I  thought  I  was  right,"  he  said.  "The  trap- 
pers' rendezvous  next  summer  will  be  at  the  mouth 
of  Horse  Creek  on  the  Green  River.  Kit  Carson, 
if  he  is  alive,  will  be  sure  to  be  there.  That  will 
be  the  place  for  you  to  go  to  find  him.  A  party 
of  trappers  came  in  a  couple  of  weeks  ago  and  are 
already  anxious  to  be  out  in  the  wilds  again.  I  will 
send  them  to  the  Green  River  region  to  trap  until 
it  is  time  to  go  to  the  rendezvous,  and  you  boys  shall 
go  with  them.  You  see,  from  about  the  middle  of 


1 6  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

June  to  the  middle  of  September,  the  beaver  and 
all  fur-bearing  animals  are  shedding  their  hair, 
which  makes  their  skins  worthless,  and  during  this 
time  all  trapping  is  stopped  and  the  different  bands 
of  trappers  gather  at  some  previously  appointed 
place  of  rendezvous,  where  they  meet  the  traders 
and  exchange  their  pelts  for  needed  supplies  and 
have  a  general  good  time  together,  sometimes  last- 
ing for  a  month  or  two — a  sort  of  trappers'  fair; 
and  Kit  will  be  sure  to  be  there.  Let  me  see,  it  is 
now  the  fifteenth  of  August.  This  will  give  you  time 
to  reach  the  mountains  and  have  a  month  or  more 
trapping  before  the  winter  sets  in.  Then,  when 
the  snow  gets  too  deep  for  trapping,  you  can 
go  into  winter  quarters  and  be  ready  for  the  spring 
season,  trapping  along  in  the  direction  of  Green 
River  until  it  is  time  to  start  for  the  rendezvous. 
Seems  like  a  mighty  slow  way  of  finding  Kit  Car- 
son, don't  it,  boys  ?  But  it  is  the  quickest  and  surest 
way  I  know.  Of  course  you  might  run  on  to  him 
while  trapping  in  the  mountains;  but  there  ain't 
one  chance  out  of  ten  thousand  of  your  doing  so. 
Now,  I'll  get  right  to  work.  You  boys  will  stay 
with  me  until  the  trappers  are  ready  to  start,  which 
will  be  next  Monday  morning  at  sunup,"  and  Cap- 
tain Young — he  was  a  man  who  made  quick  and 
positive  decisions  and  then  saw  that  they  were  at 
once  put  into  force — almost  jumped  out  of  his  chair, 
in  his  hurry  to  see  the  trappers  and  to  get  the 


In  Captain  Young's  Private  Office          17 

expedition  under  way,  and  rushed  out  of  the  room, 
calling  to  the  boys  to  follow  him. 

Rex  and  Dill  had  been  greatly  disappointed  when 
they  found  that  Kit  Carson  was  not  in  Santa  Fe; 
and  now,  when  they  learned  that  he  was  thousands 
of  miles  away,  hidden  somewhere  in  one  of  the  in- 
numerable recesses  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and 
that  they  would  have  to  wait  nearly  a  year  for  even 
a  chance  to  see  him,  this  disappointment  became  so 
keen  as  to  be  almost  unbearable. 

"I — I  did  not  suppose  it  would  take  so  long  to 
find  Kit  Carson,"  Rex  complained,  as  he  and  Dill 
hurried  after  Captain  Young.  "I  thought,  even  if 
he  was  out  trapping,  that  Captain  Young  would 
know  in  what  part  of  the  country  he  was,  so  that  we 
could  go  at  once  to  that  place  and  find  him.  I  don't 
see  how  we  can  wait  for  nearly  a  year  before  doing 
anything  to  get  those  papers.  They  might  be  taken 
away  from  the  Mission  before  then,  to  some  place 
where  we  could  not  find  them,  even  to  Mexico — and 
we  must  get  them,  we  must  get  them,"  he  repeated, 
as  a  look  of  dogged  determination  came  into  his 
young  face.  "I  do  not  think  Captain  Young  under- 
stands how  great  is  our  need  to  hurry.  I  am  going 
to  tell  him  how  necessary  it  is  for  us  to  find  Kit  Car- 
son before  winter,  and  see  if  he  cannot  think  of  some 
way  of  doing  it — There,  he  has  stopped  to  talk  with 
one  of  the  trappers!  Now  is  the  time  for  me  to 
tell  him,"  and  Rex,  who  with  Dill  close  by  his  side 


i8          With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

had  been  trying  to  overtake  the  hurrying  Captain, 
hastened  to  where  he  had  stopped  to  speak  to  the 
trapper  with  whom  he  had  been  talking  when  the 
boys  entered  the  store. 

"Captain  Young/'  began  Rex,  "we  can't  wait 
nearly  a  year  to  find  Kit  Carson.  We  must  try  to 
find  him  before  winter.  You  don't  know  how  much 
depends  on  our  finding  him.  Can't  you  learn  in 
what  part  of  the  country  he  is  trapping,  so  that  we 
can  go  directly  there  ?  We — " 

"My  boy,"  and  Captain  Young  laid  a  quick  hand 
on  Rex's  shoulder,  "I  do  understand  your  great 
need  of  haste — I  have  read  your  Uncle  Noel's  letter ; 
but  you  do  not  seem  to  understand  the  vastness  of 
the  country  into  which  Kit  Carson  has  gone,  nor 
the  fact  that  it  has  now  been  two  years  since  Kit  was 
here  and  over  a  year  since  I  have  heard  a  word  from 
him  or  of  him.  I  do  not  know,  no  one  here  knows, 
where  he  is,  except,  if  he  is  still  alive,  that  he  is 
somewhere  between  the  Missouri  River  and  the 
Pacific  Ocean.  It  would  be  useless  to  try  to  go 
where  he  is  trapping,  because  no  one  knows  within 
a  thousand  miles  where  that  is.  The  trapper  goes 
until  he  finds  beaver.  It  may  be  a  hundred  miles, 
it  may  be  a  thousand,  it  matters  not  to  him,  only 
so  that  in  the  end  he  finds  the  beaver.  But,  once 
a  year,  all  must  gather  at  the  rendezvous,  to  get 
fresh  supplies  of  powder  and  lead  and  the  other 
things  their  wild  life  needs,  in  exchange  for  their 
furs;  and  there  you  will  find  Kit  Carson.  I  know 


In  Captain  Young's  Private  Office         19 

your  need  of  haste,  and  I  wish  I  knew  a  quicker 
way  of  finding  Kit;  but  I  do  not.  So,  as  all  have 
to  do  out  here  on  the  frontier,  you  must  make  the 
best  of  the  situation — and  I  am  sure  you  will/'  he 
added  quickly,  his  face  lighting  up  with  a  smile. 
"Now  I  must  leave  you  for  a  while.  I  have  much 
to  do  in  order  to  get  you  started  Monday.  Make 
yourselves  right  at  home  here.  I'll  be  back  in  an 
hour  or  so,"  and,  accompanied  by  the  trapper,  Cap- 
tain Young  hurried  out  into  the  street  before  either 
boy  had  time  to  utter  a  word  in  reply. 

"Well,"  and  Rex  turned  a  gloomy  face  to  Dill  the 
moment  the  door  closed  behind  the  trader  and  his 
companion,  "of  course  Captain  Young  is  right ;  and 
we've  just  got  to  make  the  best  of  things  as  they 
are;  and  if  it  wasn't  for  those  papers  I  wouldn't 
care,  for  it  will  be  a  great  experience,  this  trip  with 
a  lot  of  trappers  into  the  wilds  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains where  there  are  wild  Indians  and  bears  and 
deer  and  other  animals  to  hunt  and  trap,"  and  his 
face  brightened.  "I've  always  wanted  to  be  a  trap- 
per, and  live  wild  in  the  mountains  and  on  the  great 
plains ;  and  now  I  am  going  to  have  a  chance  to  see 
what  the  life  is  like." 

"So  have  I,"  Dill  admitted,  his  own  face  lighting 
up.  "Ever  since  I  can  remember  I  have  wanted  to 
be  a  trapper,  like  father  was,  and  see  the  wonderful 
scenes  that  he  has  so  often  told  me  about,  and  live 
the  wild  free  life  of  the  great  plains  and  mountains  ; 
and  maybe  fight  Indians  and  kill  grizzly  bears  and 


2O  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

buffalo  and  deer  and  trap  and  hunt.  I  think  trap- 
ping must  be  the  most  exciting  and  interesting  life 
there  is  to  live  on  this  earth ;  and  then  father  says 
it  makes  a  man  brave  and  independent  and  hardy, 
because  he  has  to  depend  entirely  on  himself  to 
take  care  of  himself  and  is  outdoors  all  the  time 
where  the  air  is  pure  and  there  is  plenty  of  room 
to  breathe.  Yes,  it  will  be  a  great  experience! 
But,"  and  his  face  sobered,  "I  wish  we  could  find 
Kit  Carson  and  get  those  papers  first.  Still  I  don't 
see  how  anything  can  happen  to  them.  We  know 
that  Uncle  Manuel  left  them  at  the  mission,  in  care 
of  one  of  the  brothers,  who  was  to  keep  them  until 
he,  or  someone  having  authority  from  him,  called 
for  them.  There  is  some  mystery  about  those  pa- 
pers that  I  do  not  understand,  something  that  fa- 
ther is  afraid  somebody  else  will  discover ;  and  that 
is  why  I  suppose  he  made  us  promise  to  tell  no  one 
but  Kit  Carson  and  Captain  Young  why  we  were 
here.  Probably  the  letter  father  gave  us,  which 
we  were  not  to  read  until  we  had  secured  the  pa- 
pers, will  tell  us  all  about  this.  Anyway  we  must  be 
very  careful  to  keep  our  promises,  because  it  would 
not  do  for  us  to  miss  getting  the  papers  through 
any  fault  of  our  own." 

"Yes,"  agreed  Rex,  "I  suppose  the  papers  will  be 
safe  enough,  if  nothing  happens  to  the  brother  your 
uncle  left  them  with.  But  I  do  not  like  this  long 
wait.  Something  might  happen;  and  then  we  do 
not  know  what  misfortune  it  might  bring  upon 


In  Captain  Young's  Private  Office         21 

Uncle  Noel.  He  seemed  dreadfully  anxious  for  us 
to  get  the  papers  just  as  soon  as  possible.  They 
must  be  very  important  to  him,  or  he  would  not 
have  sent  us  half-way  across  a  continent,  through 
thousands  of  miles  of  wilderness,  to  get  them.  Too 
bad  your  Uncle  Manuel  died  so  suddenly,  before 
he  had  time  to  tell  you  all  of  his  story;  but  he  must 
have  told  your  father  more  than  we  know.  I 
wished  I  knew  what  was  in  that  letter  he  gave  us. 
I  wonder  why  he  forbade  us  to  read  it  until  we  se- 
cured the  papers.  Have  you  any  idea,  Dill?" 

"No,"  Dill  answered,  "only  I  think  it  is  some- 
thing father  did  not  wish  us  to  know  at  all,  unless 
we  got  the  papers." 

"Well,"  Rex  meditated,  "it's  a  curious  business 
anyway ;  and  I  wish  we  did  not  have  to  wait  so  long 
before  solving  it.  But  now,  as  Captain  Young 
says,  the  only  thing  for  us  to  do  is  to  make  the  most 
of  things  as  they  are,  and  to  get  ourselves  at  once 
in  the  best  possible  shape  to  go  with  the  trappers. 
Monday  is  only  three  days  off,  and  there  is  a  lot 
that  I  want  to  do  before  then.  Let's  go  to  the 
wagon  and  get  our  things  and  bring  them  here. 
You  know  Captain  Young  said  that  we  were  to 
stay  with  him." 

Dill  promptly  agreed  to  this,  and  the  two  boys 
at  once  started  for  the  wagons,  which  had  been 
gathered  in  a  compact  group  near  the  center  of 
the  plaza  publica.  The  wagons  were  still  sur- 
rounded by  a  curious  but  good-natured  crowd  of 


22         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

Mexicans  that  promptly  made  way  for  the  two  boys ; 
and  they  reached  their  wagon,  secured  their  per- 
sonal belongings  and  returned  to  the  store  of  Cap- 
tain Young  without  trouble,  though  considerably 
delayed  by  the  interest  they  had  taken  in  watching 
the  lively  and  novel  street  scenes  of  quaint  old 
Santa  Fe,  so  different  from  the  sights  they  were 
accustomed  to  seeing  on  the  streets  of  New  Or- 
leans. 


CHAPTER  III 
POM 

THEY  found  Captain  Young  in  his  office,  in  close 
consultation  with  Tom  Roberts,  Captain  of  the 
Caravan.  The  moment  the  boys  entered  the  room, 
Captain  Young  turned  a  smiling  face  to  them. 

"I  have  good  news  for  you  boys,"  he  said.  "Cap- 
tain Tom  has  agreed  to  head  your  party  of  trap- 
pers ;  and  if  anyone  can  find  Kit  Carson  before  win- 
ter, Captain  Tom  can.  But,"  he  added  quickly  as 
he  noticed  the  look  of  delight  that  came  into  the 
faces  of  both  lads,  "don't  count  overmuch  even  on 
Captain  Tom  finding  him  before  the  rendezvous. 
There  ain't  one  chance  out  of  a  hundred  of  his  do- 
ing it;  but  he  can  do  it,  if  anybody  can.  That's 
about  it,  ain't  it  Tom?"  and  he  turned  inquiringly 
to  his  companion. 

"There's  'bout  as  much  chance  of  finding  Kit  in 
the  mountains  as  there  would  be  of  finding  a  tree- 
toad  in  a  medder,"  Captain  Tom  answered.  "But 
we're  sartain  to  overhaul  him  at  the  rendezvous. 
Let  me  see  them  guns  of  yourn,"  and  his  eyes  rested 
on  the  two  rifles  carried  by  the  boys. 

Rex  and  Dill  each  promptly  handed  him  his  gun. 
The  rifles  were  both  the  latest  make  and  the  best 

23 


24         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

quality.     Captain  Tom  examined  the  weapons  care- 
fully, handling  them  almost  caressingly. 

"They  are  mighty  good  looking  and  feeling 
guns,"  he  said,  throwing  each  to  his  shoulder  in 
turn  and  sighting  quickly  along  its  barrel,  "but  a 
little  light  for  grizzly  bear  and  Indian  shooting. 
Now  that  is  my  style  of  a  gun/'  and  his  eyes  turned 
fondly  to  the  corner  of  the  room  where  stood  his 
heavy  long-barreled  Remington,  big  and  hard  and 
powerful  looking  like  its  owner.  "That's  the  kind 
of  a  gun  for  grizzly  bear  and  Indian  shooting;  but 
I  reckon  'twould  be  too  heavy  for  a  boy  to  tote 
around.  Now  let's  see  the  rest  of  your  outfits;" 
and  one  by  one  the  critical  eyes  of  the  experienced 
old  trapper  carefully  examined  the  articles  in  the 
boys'  outfits,  laying  each  down  in  one  of  two  piles, 
when  he  had  done  so. 

"You  won't  need  them,"  he  said,  pointing  to  one 
of  the  piles,  as  soon  as  his  examination  was  over. 
"Leave  them  with  Captain  Young.  Now,"  and  he 
turned  to  the  trader,  "you  see  to  the  outfitting,  and 
I'll  get  the  trappers  together  and  have  a  talk  with 
them.  I  have  a  lot  to  do  before  Monday,  and  must 
be  doing  it,"  and  he  hastened  from  the  room,  leav- 
ing two  rather  crestfallen  boys  ruefully  regarding 
the  discarded  pile  of  things  that  Captain  Tom  had 
so  unceremoniously  indicated  was  not  to  be  taken 
with  them. 

"Tom  is  right,"  and  Captain  Young  smiled. 
"You'll  not  need  them  things.  A  trapper  always 


Pom  25 

goes  in  light  marching  order,  discarding  every 
ounce  of  unnecessary  weight.  I'll  see  that  you  have 
everything  that  you  need.  Now  camp  right  in  this 
room.  You  can  make  your  bed  on  that  pile  of  bear 
skins/'  and  he  pointed  to  a  pile  of  grizzly  bear  skins 
in  one  corner  of  the  room ;  "and  go  to  bed  whenever 
you  get  ready.  I  won't  be  in  'til  late,  so  don't  wait 
for  me,"  and  the  door  closed  behind  the  trader. 

Rex  and  Dill  remained  for  a  few  minutes  in  the 
office,  talking  and  stowing  away  their  outfits,  then 
they  went  out  into  the  store  and  watched  the  busy 
clerks  and  the  trappers  and  the  Indians  and  the 
Mexicans  who  gathered  there  for  purposes  of  trade 
or  "talk,"  and  finally  they  passed  out  into  the 
crowded  streets. 

By  this  time  the  shadows  of  night  had  begun  to 
settle  down  in  the  dark  places  of  the  streets,  and 
the  candles  in  the  houses  were  being  lit.  Already 
a  cool  breeze  had  begun  to  temper  the  heat  of  the 
day ;  and  Rex  and  Dill  found  the  greater  part  of  the 
population  of  Santa  Fe  out  in  the  open  air,  enjoying 
the  cool  evening.  The  plaza  publica  was  crowded ; 
and  men,  women  and  children  swarmed  around  the 
wagons  of  the  Americanos  like  bees  around  a  hive. 
The  lights  of  the  various  resorts,  where  vile  liquors, 
gambling  and  their  attendant  evils  held  their  vota- 
ries, shone  redly  out  into  the  dark  street,  while 
through  their  wide-opened  doors  and  windows  came 
the  sounds  of  tinkling  banjos  and  other  musical  in- 
struments, the  clatter  of  many  dancing  feet  and  the 


26         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

laughter  of  men  and  women.  Santa  Fe  was  mak- 
ing merry  over  the  coming  of  the  Americanos  and 
the  caravan. 

For  a  minute  or  two  Rex  and  Dill  paused  just 
outside  of  the  store,  to  get  their  bearings  and  to 
watch  the  animated  and  novel  scene  before  them. 

"Let's  walk  around  the  plaza  and  take  in  the 
sights,"  Dill  suggested,  as  his  eyes  roamed  over  the 
varied  scenes  of  the  plaza  publica. 

Rex  promptly  agreeing,  they  started,  pausing  of- 
ten to  look  at  the  many  things  that  awakened  their 
curiosity  and  interest. 

Suddenly  both  boys  were  startled  by  the  sharp, 
crack — crack,  of  a  pistol  and  the  sounds  of  a  wild 
commotion  coming  from  a  dance  hall  only  a  few 
feet  ahead  of  them.  Then,  before  either  lad  fairly 
knew  what  was  happening,  out  through  the  wide- 
opened  door  of  the  dance  hall  shot  a  great  black 
ball  that  rolled  and  bounded  until  with  a  mad  yell 
it  struck  the  ground  directly  in  front  of  their  feet— 
and  the  astounded  boys  were  looking  down  into  the 
terror-stricken  face  of  a  negro  boy,  whose  rolling 
eyes  and  up-lifted  hands  were  raised  appealingly  to 
them. 

"Sabe  me!  Sabe  dis  niggah !"  he  cried,  the  black 
hands  clutching  frantically  the  trouser-legs  of  both 
lads.  "O,  Lo'd !  don't  let  him  done  cotch  me !"  and 
the  rolling  eyes  turned  a  frightened  glance  back- 
ward just  as  a  huge  red-whiskered  man,  his  face 


Pom  27 

inflamed  with  whiskey  and  passion,  a  huge  knife 
in  one  hand,  rushed  out  of  the  dance  hall,  followed 
by  a  motley  crowd  of  Mexicans  and  Americans. 
"He's  done  gwine  to  skin  me  alive !"  and  the  negro 
clung,  in  a  frenzy  of  fear,  tightly  to  the  legs  of  the 
boys. 

At  this  moment  the  bully  caught  sight  of  the  ne- 
gro boy  groveling  at  the  feet  of  Rex  and  Dill. 

"Hi,  you  black  imp  of  th'  devil!"  he  shouted, 
"now  I'll  have  that  hide  of  yourn,"  and  he  sprang 
toward  the  spot  where  the  negro  lay. 

Possibly  he  had  no  thought  of  really  harming  the 
negro  lad,  possibly  he  intended  only  to  frighten 
him;  but  those  were  wild,  lawless  days  when  wild, 
lawless  men  frequently  gave  full  rein  to  all  their 
brutal  passions  and  did  the  most  cruel  deeds,  when 
half-crazed  with  rum  and  rage.  I  am  not  writing 
of  the  Santa  Fe  of  to-day,  but  of  the  Santa  Fe  of 
seyenty-five  years  ago. 

For  a  moment  Rex  and  Dill  knew  not  what  to  do, 
then  the  instinct  of  true  manhood,  aroused  in  de- 
fense of  the  weak  and  helpless,  asserted  itself  in 
the  bosom  of  each  lad  simultaneously — and,  to  his 
very  great  astonishment,  the  huge  red-whiskered 
bully  found  himself  confronting  two  very  white- 
faced  but  determined  American  lads,  who  had  sud- 
denly stepped  in  between  him  and  the  negro  boy. 

"Stop!"  shouted  Rex.  "Stop!"  and  his  right 
hand  went  quickly  to  the  haft  of  the  hunting-knife 


28         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

in  his  belt,  the  only  weapon  he  had  with  him,  and 
his  strong  young  body  threw  itself  intuitively  into 
an  attitude  of  self-defense. 

Dill  said  nothing.  There  was  no  need.  His 
actions  spoke  for  him.  He  stood  bravely  by  the 
side  of  Rex,  his  face  white,  but  his  eyes  flashing 
with  indignation,  and  his  whole  attitude  saying  as 
plainly  as  had  Rex's  words,  "Stop !  Stop !" 

And  the  big  bully  did  stop,  not  ten  feet  from 
where  the  lads  stood,  his  flushed  face  and  blood-shot 
eyes  staring  in  an  astonishment  that  was  quickly 
changing  into  rage  at  the  two  boys  who  had  dared 
to  come  between  him  and  the  negro  boy. 

"Git  out  of  th'  way!"  and  the  knife  was  raised 
threateningly.  "Git  out  of  th'  way,  or  I'll—"  A 
vicious  thrust  of  the  knife  finished  the  sentence. 
"This  ain't  none  of  your  affair.  It's  atween  me  an' 
that  black  skunk.  Now,  git!"  and  his  voice  rose 
into  a  roar  of  rage.  "I'll  have  that  nigger's  hide, 
if  I  have  tew  take  yourn  with  it,"  and  he  leaped 
straight  toward  the  boys. 

Rex  and  Dill  were  not  cowards.  They  had  often 
proven  their  courage,  even  to  the  point  of  facing 
death ;  but,  when  that  great  brute,  half-drunken  and 
wild  with  rage,  hurled  himself  upon  them,  both  lads 
felt  the  most  terrible  fear  they  had  ever  known— 
and  proved  themselves  the  possessors  of  the  truest 
kind  of  courage,  the  kind  that  can  bravely  face  dan- 
ger when  afraid;  for  they  stood  their  ground  in 
spite  of  their  fear. 


DILL  HURLED  HIMSELF  AT  THE  MAN'S  LEGS. 


Pom  29 

Rex,  at  the  leap  of  the  bully,  sprang  aside  to 
avoid  the  thrust  of  the  knife,  for  the  man  had 
sprung  straight  toward  him,  probably  because  he 
was  the  larger  of  the  two  boys,  and  in  self-defense 
drew  his  own  knife ;  but  Dill,  seeing  the  peril  of  his 
comrade,  hurled  himself  at  the  man's  legs,  like  a 
modern  football  tackle,  and  brought  the  great  brute 
to  the  ground  with  a  suddenness  that  shook  every 
bone  in  the  big  body. 

"Now,  I'll  'tend  tew  this  here  modern  Goliah, 
who  goes  about  seekin'  what  boys,  white  an'  black, 
he  can  devour,"  and  a  huge  hand  reached  down 
and  jerked  Dill  to  his  feet  just  in  time  to  save  him 
from  a  wicked  thrust  of  the  knife,  while  the  kick 
of  a  booted  foot  sent  the  knife  flying  a  rod  through 
the  air. 

Rex  had  sprung  promptly  to  Dill's  aid;  but  the 
same  hand  that  had  gripped  Dill  caught  him  and 
thrust  him  back. 

"Them  red  whiskers  is  my  meat.  Now  jest  stand 
back  and  watch  me  chaw  them,"  and  Hammer 
Jones,  a  look  in  his  blue  eyes  that  the  boys  had 
never  seen  there  before,  thrust  both  lads  behind 
him  and  faced  the  bully,  who  was  struggling  to  his 
feet,  swearing  horribly.  In  another  moment  the 
man  stood  on  his  feet,  Hammer  Jones  making  no 
move  to  prevent  him,  and  was  glaring  into  the  eyes 
of  his  new  antagonist. 

"Come  on,  whiskers,"  encouraged  Ham,  shaking 
his  great  hammer-like  fist.  "I  ain't  no  helpless  little 


30         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

nigger,  nor  yit  even  a  white  boy;  but  I'm  a  man 
what's  goin'  tew  give  you  th'  durndest  wallopin'  a 
man  ever  had  or  git  one  myself — Hi,  let  that  knife 
alone !"  and  his  right  hand  went  quickly  to  the  butt 
of  the  pistol  in  his  belt,  as  the  man  made  a  swift 
movement  toward  the  spot  where  the  knife  lay. 
"We'll  jest  fight  this  out  in  th'  good  American  way 
— with  our  fists,  an'  without  any  knife  stabbin'  or 
pistol  shootin',  unless  you  compels  me  tew  do  th' 
shootin'." 

The  man  stopped  short  and  turned  a  pair  of  glar- 
ing eyes  on  Ham. 

"'Tain't  none  of  yer  affair,"  he  glowered.  Then, 
noting  the  bulk  and  fighting  look  of  his  antagonist, 
the  wind  suddenly  went  out  of  the  sails  of  his  cour- 
age and  left  them  flapping.  "I  won't  really  mean- 
in'  tew  harm  th'  nigger  or  th'  yunks,"  he  continued, 
glancing  furtively  around  the  crowd  that  by  this 
time  had  gathered.  "Jest  wanted  tew  scare  th'  nig 
tew  hear  him  yell  an'  see  him  run." 

"Great  fun,  wasn't  it?"  queried  Ham.  "Want 
some  more?" 

"Sartain,"  and  the  man  grinned. 

"Good.  You  shall  have  all  you  want,"  and,  with 
a  yell  that  made  every  man  in  the  crowd  jump  a 
foot  high,  Hammer  Jones  suddenly  drew  his  knife 
and  flourishing  it  around  his  head  sprang  straight 
toward  the  bully. 

The  man  gave  one  terrified  glance  at  the  coming 
man  and  knife,  and  then  turned  and  ran  shrieking 


Pom  31 

down  the  street,  as  badly  frightened  as  the  negro 
boy  had  been,  with  Hammer  Jones  yelling  at  every 
jump  after  him,  and  followed  by  the  crowd  wild 
with  excitement.  In  a  dozen  jumps  Ham  had  over- 
taken the  man,  and  now,  about  every  third  step, 
he  managed  to  get  in  a  tremendous  kick,  that  would 
bring  a  yell,  like  the  shriek  of  a  steam  calliope,  out 
of  the  bully. 

In  this  way  they  ran  for  perhaps  a  dozen  rods, 
when  they  came  to  where  the  street  passed  close  to 
a  particularly  vile  and  muddy  pond  of  green- 
scummed  water ;  and  with  one  last  tremendous  kick 
Ham  sent  the  fellow  sprawling  headfirst  into  this 
pond.  When  he  came  out  he  was  a  sight  for  gods 
and  men ;  and,  dripping  mud  and  curses,  he  rushed 
to  his  horse,  mounted  and  rode  out  of  Santa  Fe 
amid  the  jeers,  so  it  seemed,  of  every  man  and 
child  in  town. 

Rex  and  Dill  had  followed  close  behind  Ham, 
and  now  the  big  fellow  turned  to  them. 

"You  yunks  must  a-been  wantin'  tew  commit  sui- 
cide," he  said  frowning,  "tew  git  in  th'  way  of 
Greaser  Smith  when  he's  wild  with  drink.  He'd 
have  stuck  that  knife  in  you  sartain,  seein'  you  was 
only  boys.  He's  as  brave  as  a  lion,  when  it  comes 
tew  fightin'  boys ;  but  men — wal,  you  seed  how  he'd 
fight  a  man,  th'  cowardly  skunk.  But  I  reckon  he 
won't  do  any  more  braggin'  in  Santa  Fe,"  and  Ham 
grinned  joyously,  as  he  thought  of  the  looks  of  the 
bully  as  he  emerged  dripping  from  the  pond. 


32          With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

"Now,  you  boys  better  git  back  tew  Young's  quar- 
ters, an'  stay  there  'til  mornin'.  Santa  Fe  is  goin' 
tew  be  some  wild  tew-night  a-celebratin'  th'  comin' 
of  th'  Americanos — Hi,  nigger,  what  you  wantin' 
now?  Ain't  you  got  these  young  fellers  in  enough 
trouble  for  one  night?"  and  Ham  turned  a  scowl- 
ing face  on  the  negro  boy,  who  had  followed  Rex 
and  Dill  and  now  crept  up  close  behind  them. 

"I  done  wants  to  t'ank  dem  fo'  sabin'  dis  nig- 
gah's  hide,"  the  black  answered.  "Fs  pow'ful  ob- 
ligated," and  he  bowed  his  kinky  head  first  to  Rex 
then  to  Dill. 

Rex  and  Dill  both  laughed.  They  could  not  help 
it,  so  irresistibly  funny  was  the  appearance  of  the 
negro  boy  as  he  stood  bowing  before  them,  while 
the  scowl  on  Ham's  face  quickly  changed  to  a  grin 
that  threatened  to  swallow  both  ears. 

The  body  of  the  negro  lad  looked  as  if  it  had  been 
modeled  after  an  inflated  football,  so  round  and 
plump  it  was,  while  his  head  was  almost  exactly  the 
shape  of  a  fat  pumpkin,  with  round,  plump  cheeks, 
glistening  white  teeth  and  little,  round  eyes,  almost 
swallowed  by  the  surrounding  fat.  To  this  body 
were  attached  two  very  fat  arms  and  two  very  fat 
legs.  An  old  woolen  shirt  and  a  pair  of  trousers 
cut  off  at  the  knees  partially  covered  the  glistening 
black  skin  of  the  legs  and  the  body,  but  the  feet  were 
bare  and  the  kinky  black  hair  was  uncovered.  He 
was  considerably  shorter  than  Dill  was,  but  looked 
to  be  about  his  age.  Now,  imagine  this  ludicrous 


Pom  33 

round  ebony  figure  bowing  and  scraping  before  the 
two  boys,  and  you  will  understand  why  they  laugh 
and  how  the  grin  came  on  Ham's  face. 

"It  wasn't  us  that  saved  your  hide.  It  was  Ham. 
That  big  fellow  there.  You'd  better  thank  him," 
Rex  said,  as  soon  as  he  could  control  his  laughter 
sufficiently  to  speak. 

'  'Deed  I  will.  Fs  much  obligated  to  dat  man 
wid  de  mule  kick.  'Deed  I'll  t'ank  him,"  and  he 
whirled  about  and  began  bowing  and  scraping  be- 
fore Ham. 

"That's  all  right,  sonny,"  Ham  said.  "Couldn't 
nohow  see  such  a  jolly  black  skinful  of  fat  pricked 
with  such  an  ugly  lookin'  knife.  Could  we,  yunks  ?" 
and  Ham  winked  to  the  two  boys.  "Now,  what 
might  your  name  be  ?" 

"I's  done  named,"  and  the  fat  little  figure 
straightened  up  proudly,  "I's  done  named  Napol- 
yun  Bonapart  Jerusal'm  Jones ;  but  'most  folks  done 
calls  me  Pom,  'cose  I's  got  so  much  pompusity,  an' 
Pom  am  short  fo'  pompusity.  Dun  know  what  dat 
pompusity  am,  but  'specks  it's  jes'  a  big  name  fo'  fat. 
I's  an  uncommon  fat  niggah,"  and  the  black  little 
imp  spread  out  his  fat  legs,  thrust  out  his  fat  chest 
and  threw  back  his  round  head  until  he  looked  the 
very  picture  of  pomposity  done  in  ebony. 

All  this  amused  Rex  and  Dill  very  much  and  they 
determined  to  take  the  negro  lad  back  with  them  to 
the  store.  Pom,  as  we  will  call  him,  accepted  their 
invitation  with  alacrity;  and,  taking  Ham's  advice, 


34          With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

the  three  returned  to  Captain  Young's  at  once. 
Here  they  learned  that  the  negro  boy  had  no  home, 
no  friends  and  no  money;  and,  pitying  him  and 
feeling  that  his  comicalities  would  more  than  repay 
them  for  their  trouble,  they  insisted  on  his  spending 
the  night  with  them,  and  made  a  bed  for  him  on  the 
great  pile  of  skins  in  the  back  part  of  the  room. 


CHAPTER  IV 

OFF  FOR  THE  MOUNTAINS 

THE  three  following  days  were  very  interesting 
and  very  busy  days  for  Rex  and  Dill.  There 
was  the  party  of  trappers  to  outfit  and  get  ready  for 
the  long  expedition  to  the  Rocky  Mountains ;  and  of 
course  both  boys  took  the  greatest  interest  in  watch- 
ing this  outfitting  process.  Then  there  were  the 
trappers  themselves,  men  who  had  trapped  and 
hunted  all  through  the  Rocky  Mountain  regions, 
and  knew  their  wonders  and  perils,  as  sailors  know 
the  seas.  The  boys  were  never  tired  of  listening  to 
their  tales  of  the  wild  and  adventurous  life  of  the 
plains  and  the  mountains  and  to  their  descriptions 
of  scenery  so  grand  and  wonderful  that  even  these 
rude,  uncultured  men  spoke  of  it  in  awe  and  rever- 
ence. And  then  there  was  Santa  Fe,  that  quaint 
old  Aztec-Spanish-Mexican  town,  the  oldest  white 
settlement  in  the  territory  of  the  United  States,  to 
explore.  Rex  and  Dill  never  wearied  of  watching 
its  picturesque  inhabitants  as  they  went  about  their 
work  or  pleasures,  nor  of  wandering  through  its 
crooked  dirty  streets,  populous  with  dogs  and  chil- 
dren. And  everywhere  the  boys  went  they  were 
followed  by  their  black  satellite,  Pom,  the  negro 

35 


36        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

boy,  who,  from  the  night  of  his  adventure  with 
Greaser  Smith,  had  attached  himself  to  them  with 
a  dog-like  affection  and  devotion  that  neither  boy 
had  the  heart  to  repulse.  Then  he  was  such  a  jolly, 
good-natured,  comical,  little  fellow,  always  doing  or 
saying  something  to  cause  a  hearty  laugh,  always 
so  willing  to  help  when  his  help  was  needed,  that, 
before  the  three  days  were  up,  both  boys  had  be- 
come so  attached  to  him  that  neither  cared  to  get 
rid  of  him,  and  even  prevailed  upon  Captain  Tom 
Roberts  to  allow  them  to  take  Pom  with  them  to  the 
mountains. 

"He  knows  how  to  cook  and  can  help  about  the 
camp,"  argued  Rex. 

"He's  as  funny  as  a  circus  and  will  keep  us  all 
good-natured/'  added  Dill. 

And  Captain  Tom  had  agreed,  not  without  a  little 
grumbling,  that  the  negro  boy  should  go,  to  the  de- 
light of  Pom  as  well  as  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
boys. 

There  was  one  other  member  of  the  party  of  trap- 
pers that  Rex  and  Dill  were  overjoyed  to  have  go 
with  them.  This  was  Hammer  Jones,  who  had 
been  a  trapper  before  he  had  been  a  wagoner,  and 
who  needed  but  little  urging  to  enlist  under  Captain 
Tom,  for  whom  he  had  great  admiration.  Besides 
he  had  become  very  fond  of  the  two  lads  during 
the  long  wagon  journey  from  Independence  to  Santa 
Fe,  and  was  really  very  glad  to  be  with  them 
longer. 


Off  for  the  Mountains  37 

Yes,  Rex  and  Dill  were  two  very  busy  and  two 
very  interested  boys  during  these  three  days;  but 
at  last  Monday  morning  dawned  cool  and  clear,  and 
the  great  day  had  come. 

Long  before  sunrise  the  two  boys  were  up  and 
out  assisting  the  trappers  pack  the  mules.  There 
were  eighteen  thick  Mexican  blankets — one  for  each 
man  and  boy  in  the  party — a  dozen  or  more  kettles, 
frying-pans  and  coffee  pots,  several  small  bags  of 
coffee,  sugar,  salt  and  flour,  a  couple  of  hundred 
steel  traps,  a  large  quantity  of  powder  and  lead,  a 
number  of  dressed  deerskins  with  which  to  replace 
clothing  and  moccasins  when  worn  out,  a 
dozen  or  so  hatchets  and  axes,  smoking  tobacco, 
an  extra  woolen  shirt  for  each  member  of  the 
party,  two  large,  heavy  canvas  tents,  an  unusual 
luxury,  and  a  number  of  minor  articles;  and 
all  these  had  to  be  packed  on  the  backs  of  the 
patient  mules — thirty  in  number,  fifteen  to  carry 
the  packs  and  the  others  to  be  ridden  by  the 
trappers  until  loaded  with  furs.  In  addition  to 
these  animals  there  were  ten  horses.  Captain  Tom 
Roberts  had  a  fine  black  stallion  that  he  called  Don 
Lucifer.  Rex  and  Dill  each  had  purchased  a  sturdy 
pony,  inured  to  the  hardships  of  mountain  life,  and 
Hammer  Jones  and  six  of  the  trappers  had  horses. 

By  sunrise  everything  was  ready  for  the  start. 
Captain  Tom  sprang  upon  the  back  of  Don  Lucifer. 
Rex  and  Dill  mounted  their  ponies.  The  trappers 
leaped  gaily  into  their  saddles.  The  white  bell- 


38  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

mule  stood  at  the  head  of  the  pack-train.  Only 
Pom  stood  hesitating  by  the  side  of  his  mule,  a 
small,  particularly  long-eared,  wicked  looking  ani- 
mal, of  a  dirty-yellowish  color,  called  Brimstone. 

"All  aboard!"  shouted  Dill. 

"Hurry!"  cried  Rex. 

But  Pom  still  stood,  eyeing  the  mule  apprehen- 
sively, one  hand  holding  the  bridle  rein  and  the 
other  resting  on  the  pommel  of  the  saddle.  Every 
now  and  then  he  would  give  a  little  hitch  upward 
with  his  body,  as  if  he  were  about  to  mount,  where- 
upon the  mule  would  give  a  vicious  switch  with  his 
tail,  and  Pom  would  instantly  become  quiet. 

"Get  him  a  ladder,"  called  one  of  the  trappers. 

"Wait  a  moment  an'  I'll  give  you  a  boost,"  and 
Hammer  Jones,  his  eyes  twinkling,  rode  up  close 
to  where  the  negro  stood.  "Now,"  and  he  sprang 
off  his  horse,  "give  me  your  foot,"  and  he  caught 
hold  of  one  of  Pom's  fat  legs  just  below  the  knee. 

"Ca'eful!      Ca'eful,    Massah    Jones,    ca'eful!— 
Whoa !    Whoa-a  Brimstone !"  and  Pom,  his  round 
face  looking  as  full  of  apprehension  as  it  would  if 
he  were  about  to  sit  down  on  a  live  volcano,  gin- 
gerly placed  one  foot  in  the  stirrup. 

"Shucks,  Pom,  he's  as  gentle  as  a  suckin'  lamb. 
Now,  he-ho,  he-ho — heave!"  and  Ham,  with  a  tre- 
mendous upward  heave,  fairly  lifted  Pom  off  his 
feet  and  sat  him  in  the  saddle. 

The  mule  stood  stock-still. 

For  an  instant  the  look  of  dreadful  apprehension 


Off  for  the  Mountains  39 

remained  on  Pom's  face ;  and  then,  seeing  that  noth- 
ing happened,  it  gave  way  to  a  look  of  triumph,  and 
his  round  head  went  back  proudly,  his  fat  chest 
puffed  out  pompously  and  he  gave  the  reins  a  wick- 
ed jerk. 

"I's  done  ready.  What  yo'  waitin'  fo'  ?"  and  his 
eyes  glanced  triumphantly  around  the  little  caval- 
cade, as  if  they  had  all  been  waiting  for  him  to 
mount,  as,  indeed,  they  had.  "Go-lang,  yo'  ol' 
Brimstone !  Go-lang !"  and  he  dug  both  heels  into 
the  mule's  bony  sides.  "Go-lang,  or  I's  gwine  to 
wallop  de  skin  off  yo'  bones." 

But  Brimstone  only  switched  his  tail,  turned  his 
head  and  looked  at  Pom. 

"Give  him  a  lick  with  your  quirt,"  yelled  one  of 
the  delighted  trappers. 

"Yo'  t'ink  dis  niggah  done  know  how  to  ride  dis 
mule?"  and  Pom  glanced  a  bit  contemptuously  at 
his  adviser.  "I's  done  ride  mo'  mules  dan  yo'  eb- 
ber  seed,  white  man;  an'  dis  heah  ol'  slabsided — 
Hi,  dar,  don't  yo'  shake  yo'  rabbit  ears  at  me,  yo' 
ol'  yeller-skinned  bag  o'  bones !  Now,  I's  gwine 
to  make  him  go  mighty  sudden.  Git  up !"  and  Pom, 
encouraged  by  the  mule's  continued  quiescence, 
brought  his  quirt  down  smartly  across  Brimstone's 
flank. 

And  the  mule  did  "go  mighty  sudden" ;  so  sudden 
that  Pom,  at  the  first  jump,  was  hurled  off  his  back 
and  sent  rolling  over  the  soft  grass  of  the  prairie, 
pulling  up  handfuls  of  grass  at  every  roll. 


4o          With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

Pom  sat  up  and  glared  at  Brimstone. 

The  mule  stopped  short,  faced  about,  and,  stretch- 
ing out  his  head  toward  the  negro  boy,  flapped  his 
long  ears  and  brayed  loudly  and  triumphantly. 

This  was  too  much  for  Pom,  and,  jumping  to  his 
feet,  he  shook  his  fists  angrily  at  the  mule. 

"Stop  dat  dar  crowin' !"  he  shouted.  "Stop  yo' 
crowin',  yo'  fool  mule.  I  done  'low  no  mule  to  crow 
ober  dis  niggah.  I's  gwine  to  ride  yo'  now,  if  I 
busticates  ebbery  bone  in  mah  skel'ton,"  and  Pom 
started  for  the  mule,  his  round  face  puckered  into 
a  look  of  dire  determination. 

The  trappers  shouted  and  laughed  their  delight, 
and  gathered  around  Pom  and  his  mule,  and  back 
of  them  gathered  half  the  populace  of  Santa  Fe. 
The  negro  was  showing  that  he  had  grit.  This 
was  better  than  they  had  expected. 

Pom  marched  straight  to  the  mule. 

The  mule  flapped  his  big  ears  and  switched  his 
tail,  but  otherwise  stood  motionless. 

Pom  gripped  the  bridle  rein  with  one  hand,  the 
pommel  of  the  saddle  with  the  other,  placed  one  foot 
in  the  stirrup,  and  by  a  tremendous  effort  heaved 
his  body  into  the  saddle,  and,  gripping  his  legs 
tightly  about  the  body  of  the  mule  and  holding  on  to 
the  pommel  of  the  saddle  firmly  with  his  left  hand, 
he  raised  the  quirt  in  his  right  hand. 

During  all  this  the  mule  stood  absolutely  motion- 
less, save  for  the  flapping  of  his  big  ears  and  the 
switching  of  his  tail. 


Off  for  the  Mountains  41 

"Yo'll  crow  ober  dis  niggah,  will  yo'  ?  Lab  right 
in  mah  face !  Now,  yo'  ol'  fool  mule,  I's  done  gwine 
to  show  yo'  who's  mastah.  Git  up!"  and  Pom 
brought  the  whip  down  with  all  the  strength  of  his 
fat  arm  across  the  hip  of  Brimstone. 

Again  the  mule  jumped  and  bucked  and  kicked 
and  grunted;  and  Pom  bumped  and  bounded  and 
grunted,  but  he  stuck  to  the  saddle,  gripping  the 
pommel  with  both  hands  and  holding  on  for  dear 
life.  Backward,  forward,  sideways,  rearing, 
plunging,  kicking  whirled,  dashed  and  jumped  the 
mule  for  about  two  minutes;  and  then,  as  suddenly 
as  he  had  begun  he  stopped  and  turned  his  head  and 
looked  at  Pom  in  mulish  disgust. 

And  Pom  was  there  all  right,  only,  somehow  in 
the  mixup,  he  had  lost  hold  of  the  pommel  of  the 
saddle  and  had  caught  hold  of  the  mule's  tail,  which 
he  was  now  tightly  gripping  with  both  hands,  his 
fat  body  stretched  along  the  back  and  his  feet  hug- 
ging the  neck  of  the  mule. 

"Golly,"  and  Pom  let  go  of  the  mule's  tail  and 
cautiously  straightened  up  in  the  saddle,  "dat  mule 
am  loaded  wid  greased  lightnin'  fo'  sho'.  I  done 
thought  he's  gwine  to  knock  mah  spinal  meningitus 
t'ro'  mah  medder  oblongater."  (Pom  had  once 
served  for  a  year  or  two  as  a  doctor's  servant  and 
had  gathered  a  weird  and  wonderful  vocabulary  of 
medical  terms,  that  he  used  whenever  he  thought 
the  occasion  demanded  something  a  little  out  of  the 
ordinary.) 


42          With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

How  the  trappers  did  shout  and  laugh  and  cheer, 
until  every  sleeper  in  Sante  Fe  sprang  out  of  bed  and 
rushed  out  of  doors  to  see  what  the  matter  was! 
Pom  had  proven  that  somewhere  in  that  mass  of  fat 
he  had  a  backbone,  and  had  jumped  up  many  notches 
in  the  estimation  of  the  trappers,  who  had  been  dis- 
posed to  treat  the  negro  boy  as  a  buffoon.  Indeed, 
this  mule,  whose  tricks  were  well  known,  had  been 
given  to  Pom  for  the  especial  purpose  of  making 
sport;  and  now  that  the  circus  was  over  and  Pom 
was  victor,  all  were  ready  to  begin  the  journey  in 
the  best  possible  spirits. 

"Everybody  get  ready!"  shouted  Captain  Tom, 
the  moment  a  lull  in  the  hilarity  gave  him  the  op- 
portunity. 

Again  the  trappers,  those  who  had  dismounted, 
leaped  gaily  to  the  backs  of  their  mules  or  horses; 
and  all  sat  waiting  the  command  to  start. 

"Now,  you  boys  just  make  the  best  of  whatever 
luck  comes,  and  remember  that  real  pluck  and  grit 
will  'most  always  win  out,  even  in  the  most  des- 
perate situations,"  Captain  Young  said,  as  he 
gripped  the  hand  of  each  boy.  "A  trapper  gets 
some  mighty  hard  knocks,  but,  if  he  stands  up  and 
takes  them  like  a  man,  they  only  make  him  the 
harder.  May  fortune  favor  you,  my  boys!"  and 
with  a  warm  shake  of  the  hand  Captain  Young 
turned  to  where  Tom  Roberts  sat  on  Don  Lucifer. 

For  a  couple  of  minutes  the  two  men  stood  talk- 
ing— Captain  Young  was  giving  his  final  instruc- 


Off  for  the  Mountains  43 

tions,  then  they  shook  hands  and  Tom  Roberts 
turned  in  his  saddle. 

"Advance!"  he  commanded,  and,  heading  his 
horse  to  the  northward,  rode  slowly  away  toward 
the  distant  ranges  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  And 
close  behind  him  rode  Rex  and  Dill,  followed  by  the 
negro  boy  and  the  pack-mule  train,  a  trapper  rid- 
ing by  the  side  of  each  pack-mule.  Thus,  just  as 
the  sun  rose  above  the  hills  to  the  east,  the  little 
cavalcade  of  trappers  rode  through  the  streets  of 
Santa  Fe,  with  many  farewells  and  good  wishes 
from  bright-eyed  senoritas  and  dark-skinned  dons, 
and  out  on  to  the  surrounding  plains,  and  slowly 
crawled  up  the  hillsides,  until  at  last  it  wound  its 
way  over  the  brow  of  a  hill — and  the  backward- 
turning  eyes  of  Rex  and  Dill  had  looked  upon 
Santa  Fe  for  the  last  time  for  many  long  months. 
From  that  moment  the  little  band  of  trappers  was 
thrown  absolutely  upon  its  own  resources. 


CHAPTER  V 

AN   ADVENTURE   WITH   A   GRIZZLY 

TF  some  of  my  readers  will  pick  up  an  old  geog- 
raphy, bearing  the  date  of  about  1833 — the  date 
of  the  beginning  of  this  tale — and  turn  to  the  map 
of  North  America,  they  will  find  that  the  greater 
part  of  what  is  now  Western  United  States  was  at 
that  time  an  unexplored  wilderness  of  mountains 
and  plains  and  valleys  inhabited  only  by  wild  In- 
dians and  wild  animals.  Along  the  coast  of  Cali- 
fornia, it  is  true,  the  Spaniards  from  Mexico  had 
established  a  number  of  missions,  for  the  conversion 
of  the  Indians  to  their  form  of  religion,  which  had 
flourished  until  now  they  had  become  rich  in  herds 
and  growing  fields  of  grain  and  fruits.  Around 
each  of  these  missions  a  few  Spanish  settlers  and  a 
large  number  of  semi-civilized  Indians  had  gath- 
ered ;  but  all  the  rest  of  the  vast  territory  from  the 
Pacific  Ocean  eastward  to  the  Missouri  River  was 
practically  "unexplored  territory"  to  all  geog- 
raphers; and  in  all  this  enormous  realm  there  was 
not  a  single  permanent  white  settlement  north  of 
Santa  Fe  and  Taos — only  roaming  bands  of  white 
trappers,  and  tribes  of  unnumbered  Indians. 

44 


An  Adventure  With  a  Grizzly  45 

Think,  boys,  of  what  seventy-five  years  have 
wrought  for  your  country ! 

And  of  all  the  dramatis  persons  who  played  a 
part  in  bringing  about  these  wonderful  changes, 
none  performed  a  more  important  role  than  did 
these  same  humble  trappers,  a  typical  party  of 
whom  we  have  just  seen  start  out  into  this  unknown 
wilderness.  They  were  the  real  explorers,  the  true 
pathfinders  of  these  Western  Wilds. 

First  came  the  trapper  and  hunter,  then  the 
scientific  explorer,  then  the  pioneer  settler,  and  lastly 
the  farmer  and  the  railroad — this  was  the  true 
ordering  of  the  march  of  civilization  westward  from 
the  Mississippi  to  the  Pacific ;  and  of  these  the  trap- 
per and  hunter  alone  had  to  depend  solely  on  him- 
self. He  had  no  blazer-of-the-way,  no  guide,  only 
his  good  rifle  and  his  undauntable  courage. 

I  have  paused  long  enough  to  write  this,  be- 
cause I  wish  my  readers  to  understand  the 
important  part  the  kind  of  men  with  whom  we  are 
to  sojourn  played  in  the  upbuilding  of  our  West. 
Some  day  some  American  Homer  will  write  the  epic 
of  the  Western  trapper;  and  place  him,  where  he 
belongs,  in  the  forefront  of  American  heroes. 

But,  to  return  to  our  young  friends. 

There  were  fourteen  men,  every  one  of  them 
chosen  for  his  known  courage  and  skill  and  pluck 
and  endurance,  in  Captain  Tom  Roberts's  band  of 
trappers.  This,  with  Captain  Tom  himself  and  the 
three  boys,  made  eighteen  men  and  boys — a  small 


46          With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

enough  number  when  you  consider  that  they  were 
going  into  a  country  where  there  were  hundreds  of 
hostile  Indians  who  would  be  constantly  on  the 
watch  for  opportunities  to  rob  and  kill. 

They  did  not  expect  to  begin  trapping  operations 
until  they  reached  the  North  Fork  of  the  Platte 
River,  many  days  distant  from  Santa  Fe.  Here 
they  were  to  begin  putting  out  traps  and  to  work 
slowly  down  stream  until  they  came  to  the  Sweet- 
water,  one  of  its  tributaries.  Up  this  stream  they 
were  to  continue  trapping  to  its  head-waters,  and 
thence,  if  the  snows  of  winter  did  not  prevent,  they 
were  to  cross  over  into  the  valley  of  the  Green  River, 
and  work  in  this  region  until  it  was  time  to  go  to 
the  rendezvous. 

Such,  briefly  outlined,  was  the  itinerary  Captain 
Young  and  Tom  Roberts  had  planned  for  our 
friends,  as  being  the  one  most  likely  to  bring  them 
into  the  region  of  Kit  Carson's  trapping  operations. 
Now,  if  you  will  turn  to  a  map  of  the  United  States, 
and,  beginning  at  Santa  Fe,  roughly  trace  with 
your  finger  the  route  here  indicated,  you  will  learn 
something  of  the  magnitude  of  the  journey  before 
"Rex  and  Dill — a  thousand  miles  or  more  of  road- 
less, bridgeless  country;  and  all  to  be  traversed  by 
the  slow  feet  of  horses  and  mules. 

But  no  thoughts  of  the  future,  of  coming  hard- 
ships or  dangers,  troubled  the  two  boys,  as  they 
rode  gaily  along  through  the  clear,  cool  morning 
air,  with  Pom  following  at  a  respectful  distance 


An  Adventure  With  a  Grizzly  47 

behind  on  Brimstone.  The  mule,  from  the  moment 
he  had  turned  his  head  and  looked  his  disgust  to  find 
the  negro  boy  still  on  his  back  had  been  all  that  a 
well-behaved  mule  should  be  and  had  walked  along 
under  the  weight  of  his  new  master  as  sedately  as 
any  mule  in  the  train. 

"How  I  wish  Tom  and  Will  and  Frank  and  the 
rest  of  the  boys  back  in  New  Orleans  might  see  us 
now !"  Rex  said,  with  boyish  enthusiasm,  as  his  eyes 
glanced  up  and  down  the  string  of  trappers  and 
pack-mules  that  stretched  for  a  dozen  rods  or  more 
along  the  trail.  "Wouldn't  they  like  to  be  with  us 
now  ?"  and  his  face  glowed  and  his  eyes  sparkled. 

"You  bet,  they  would,"  was  Dill's  boyish  answer. 
"We're  really  and  truly  trappers  now,  and  I  am 
beginning  to  feel  more  like  a  man  already,"  and  his 
eyes  lighted.  "Someway  this  going  right  out  into 
the  wilderness,  where  one  has  to  depend  on  himself 
for  everything,  makes  a  fellow,  even  if  he  is  a  boy, 
feel  like  a  man." 

"Indeed  it  does,"  agreed  Rex.  "I  feel  as  if  I  had 
grown  about  two  inches  in  the  last  two  hours,"  and 
he  straightened  up  in  his  saddle,  threw  back  his 
head  and  laughed. 

And,  indeed,  it  was  an  attractive  and  romantic 
picture  that  the  two  boys  and  their  companions  pre- 
sented, as  they  rode  slowly — they  could  not  go  faster 
than  a  walk  on  account  of  the  pack-mules — now  up 
some  steep  declivity,  now  through  a  deep  ravine, 
now  across  a  lovely  valley,  always  surrounded  by 


48        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

the  wild  and  picturesque  scenery  of  the  yet  unbroken 
wilderness,  the  bell  of  the  lead-mule  tinkling,  the 
men  laughing  and  joking  and  calling  to  one  an- 
other— they  were  in  safe  country  now — and  around 
them  only  the  sounds  and  the  life  of  the  wilderness. 

Boys,  look  long  at  this  picture.  Never  again 
will  these  fearless  men  ride  forth  in  the  wild  free- 
dom of  their  untrammeled  manhood  to  brave  the 
perils  and  to  conquer  the  hardships  of  the  free  plains 
and  mountains.  The  deerskin  dress,  the  fur  cap, 
the  long  rifle,  the  beaded  moccasins,  the  stalwart, 
muscular  bodies,  the  bronzed  faces,  the  fearless  eyes, 
the  free,  bold  spirits — all,  alas !  belong  to  a  past  that 
can  never  return.  But,  boys,  we  can  admire  and 
emulate  their  courage  and  pluck  and  endurance  and 
honesty — those  Stirling  qualities'  of  character  be- 
longing alike  to  all  true  men,  and  we  can  hold  in 
grateful  remembrance  the  debt  we^-America — owe 
to  their  memory. 

At  noon  Captain  Tom  halted  on  the  banks  of  a 
clear,  cool  stream  of  water;  and  the  trappers  went 
into  camp  for  a  couple  of  hours.  The  packs  were 
taken  off  the  backs  of  the  mules ;  and  all  the  animals 
were  hobbled  and  turned  loose  to  graze  on  the  rich 
grass  that  grew  near  the  water.  A  half  a  dozen 
fires  were  built ;  and  soon  the  coffee  was  boiling  in 
the  pots  and  the  meat  was  roasting  on  wooden 
spits.  When  the  meal  was  over,  Ham  picked  up  his 
rifle. 


An  Adventure  With  a  Grizzly  49 

"I  reckon  I'll  try  an'  git  some  fresh  meat,  Cap- 
tain," he  said. 

"All  right.  Get  back  in  an  hour,"  and  Captain 
Tom  stretched  himself  out  on  the  soft  grass  at  ease. 

"Oh,  can't  we  go  with  you?"  and  Rex  and  Dill 
both  sprang  to  their  feet. 

"I'm  willin',  if  th'  Captain  is,"  and  Ham  glanced 
to  where  Captain  Tom  lay. 

Captain  Tom  smiled  and  nodded;  and  the  next 
minute  Rex  and  Dill  had  their  rifles  in  their  hands 
and  were  standing  by  Ham's  side. 

"We'll  see  what's  a-top  of  that  ridge,"  and  Ham 
pointed  to  a  wooded  ridge  lying  about  a  quar- 
ter of  a  mile  back  of  their  camp.  "I  thought  I  saw 
a  deer  or  two  slip  into  th'  woods,  jest  afore  we 
stopped  to  camp,"  and  he  started  off  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  ridge,  with  the  eager  boys  in  close  at- 
tendance. 

Rex  and  Dill  had  often  hunted  deer,  as  well  as 
other  and  more  dangerous  animals,  in  the  wilds  of 
Louisiana,  and  both  were  good  shots  with  their 
rifles.  Consequently,  when  they  separated  just  be- 
fore entering  the  woods,  so  as  to  approach  the  game 
from  three  separate  points,  the  boys  knew  how  to 
conduct  themselves  almost  as  well  as  did  Ham  him- 
self. 

"I  reckon  we'll  find  deer  afore  we  get  a-top  th' 
ridge,  so  keep  your  eyes  peeled  an'  be  ready  to  shoot 
on  th'  jump,"  was  Ham's  parting  advice. 


5O          With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

Rex  entered  the  woods  about  ten  rods  to  the  right 
of  Ham,  and  Dill  about  the  same  distance  to  his 
left. 

The  ridge  was  some  two  hundred  feet  high,  with 
steep  rocky  sides  covered  quite  thickly  with  cotton- 
wood  trees  and  underbrush. 

The  three  hunters  saw  no  game  until  they  were 
near  the  top,  then  Rex,  who  had  been  moving  up- 
ward as  noiselessly  as  possible,  heard  a  rustle  of 
leaves  in  a  thick  clump  of  underbrush  a  couple  of 
rods  to  his  right  and  a  few  feet  higher  up  the  ridge 
— and  instantly  stopped,  his  rifle  thrown  to  his 
shoulder,  ready  to  fire  the  moment  the  expected  deer 
bounded  out  of  the  brush.  For  a  moment  he  stood 
thus,  his  eyes  on  the  clump  of  bushes,  his  finger  on 
the  trigger  of  his  rifle ;  and  then,  to  his  horror,  the 
bushes  suddenly  parted  and  a  huge  grizzly  bear 
rushed  out  and  charged  straight  for  him,  her  little 
round  eyes  red  with  rage. 

For  one  terrible  instant  Rex  was  absolutely  para- 
lyzed with  fear.  He  could  not  move  a  muscle,  not 
so  much  as  to  press  the  trigger  of  his  rifle.  He 
could  not  utter  a  sound,  not  even  to  warn  Ham  and 
Dill  of  his  danger. 

The  grizzly,  when  about  a  rod  away,  suddenly 
stopped,  reared  up  on  her  hind  legs,  and,  with  an 
angry -growl,  prepared  to  hurl  herself  upon  the  pet- 
rified boy.  But  at  this  instant,  Rex  awoke  from 
his  horrible  night-mare,  and,  with  a  yell  that  was 
heard  back  in  camp,  fired  his  rifle,  dropped  the  gun, 


An  Adventure  With  a  Grizzly  51 

and,  whirling  about,  ran  for  a  large  tree  a  rod  be- 
low him,  up  which  he  climbed  with  such  speed,  that, 
when  the  bear  reached  the  bottom  of  the  trunk,  he 
was  twenty  feet  up  the  tree  and  still  going. 

A  grizzly  bear  is  not  a  good  tree  climber,  unless 
the  tree  is  a  large  one  with  an  abundance  of  knots 
and  limbs  for  footholds.  But,  unfortunately,  this 
was  exactly  the  kind  of  a  tree  Rex,  in  his  flight, 
had  elected  to  climb ;  and  the  bear,  after  a  moment's 
pause  to  growl  her  rage  and  defiance,  promptly 
started  up  after  him. 

At  this  moment  Ham  came  tearing  through  the 
brush,  and  in  an  instant  his  keen  eyes  had  taken  in 
the  situation — Rex  up  a  tree  and  a  grizzly  bear  go- 
ing up  after  him. 

This,  you  will  please  remember,  was  before  the 
date  of  the  repeating  rifle,  or  even  that  of  the  breech- 
loader, when  every  separate  charge  of  powder  had 
to  be  poured  into  the  muzzle  of  the  barrel  and  every 
patched  bullet  had  to  be  driven  home  with  the  ram- 
rod. It  took  time  then  to  load  a  rifle;  and,  when 
loaded,  the  hunter  had  only  one  small  bullet  between 
him  and  whatever  danger  threatened.  This  made 
the  killing  of  a  grizzly  bear  an  altogether  different 
proposition  from  what  it  is  to-day,  with  the  high- 
power,  rapid-fire  modern  rifle;  and  it  was  seldom 
that  any  hunter,  however  brave,  cared  to  provoke 
a  fight  with  one  of  these  monsters,  whose  thick  hide 
and  tough  bones  and  tremendous  vitality  was  al- 
most sure  to  require  more  than  one  of  these  small 


52  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

balls  to  drive  the  life  out  of  his  huge  body.  The 
grizzly  bear  was  the  most  ferocious,  the  most  dread- 
ed by  whites  and  Indians  alike,  of  all  the  ani- 
mals of  the  West;  and  for  a  white  man  or  an  In- 
dian to  kill  one  single-handed  was  enough  to  give 
the  killer  a  reputation  for  bravery  for  the  rest  of 
his  life. 

Hammer  Jones  was  a  brave  man ;  but  he  knew  the 
grizzly  bear,  knew  that  the  one  small  ball  of  lead 
in  his  rifle  was  all  that  stood  between  him  and  the 
claws  and  the  teeth  of  the  brute.  If  that  one  bullet 
failed  of  being  immediately  fatal,  he  knew  that  the 
wounded  grizzly  would  drop  from  the  tree  and  be 
upon  him  before  he  could  reload  his  rifle — and  that 
meant  almost  certain  death.  Hammer  Jones  knew 
all  this*;  but  he  was  cool  and  unafraid.  It  was  a 
moment  when  haste  might  mean  the  waste  of  his 
life.  He  must  make  that  one  bullet  do  its  fatal 
work. 

The  bear  had  now  climbed  some  ten  feet  up  the 
tree  and  was  still  working  his  way  clumsily  upward 
toward  Rex,  who  had  mounted  as  high  as  possible, 
and,  drawing  his  hunting-knife,  his  panic  over,  sat 
coolly  awaiting  the  bear.  Neither  Rex  nor  the 
bear  saw  Ham.  They  had  eyes  only  for  each  other. 

Hammer  Jones  ran  close  to  the  trunk  of  the  tree ; 
and  then,  throwing  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  waited 
until  a  movement  of  the  foreleg  of  the  grizzly  would 
expose  the  spot  just  back  and  under  the  shoulder 
blade  where  his  bullet  was  most  sure  to  be  fatal. 


An  Adventure  With  a  Grizzly  53 

For  a  minute — to  the  anxious  man  it  seemed  like  an 
hour — he  stood,  motionless  as  if  he  had  been  frozen 
stiff,  his  rifle  leveled,  his  eye  glancing  along  the  bar- 
rel, his  finger  on  the  trigger ;  and  then  the  grizzly, 
in  reaching  upward  for  a  limb,  uncovered  the  fatal 
spot,  and  Ham  fired. 

With  a  roar  that  started  half  the  men  in  camp 
running  to  their  aid,  the  grizzly  let  go  her  hold  on 
the  tree  and  fell  to  the  ground. 

"You've  got  her!  You've  got  her!"  excitedly 
yelled  Rex,  beginning  to  climb  down  from  the  tree. 

But  Ham  had  not  "got  her"  yet;  for  almost  the 
instant  the  grizzly  struck  the  ground,  she  reared  up 
on  her  hind-legs,  and,  with  blood  and  foam  drop- 
ping from  her  mouth,  she  charged  straight  toward 
the  big  fellow. 

Ham  jerked  out  his  hunting-knife;  but,  before 
he  could  use  it,  before  the  grizzly  could  get  to  him, 
a  rifle  cracked  so  close  to  the  side  of  his  face  that 
the  powder  burnt  his  cheek,  and  a  bullet  from  Dill's 
gun  struck  the  bear  in  the  breast,  stopping  her  rush 
for  an  instant  and  knocking  her  backward.  Be- 
fore she  could  recover  the  three  bullets  had  done 
their  fatal  work;  and,  with  a  final  growl  and  a  last 
desperate  effort  to  reach  her  enemy,  she  plunged 
forward  and  fell  dead  at  the  feet  of  Hammer  Jones. 

"Reload!  Reload!"  Ham  warned.  "Her  mate 
might  be  comin'  'long  any  moment,"  and  with  swift 
hands  he  began  reloading  his  own  rifle ;  and  not  un- 
til both  boys  had  powder  and  ball  back  in  their  guns 


54  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

would  he  allow  them  to  approach  the  dead  grizzly. 
"Th'  first  thing  to  do  after  shootin'  is  always  load- 
in',"  he  explained;  "for  th'  Lord  alone  knows  when 
a  feller  will  need  a  gun  in  this  here  country,  an' 
when  he  does  need  it  he  needs  it  loaded." 

The  guns  loaded  the  three  at  once  began  to  ex- 
amine the  grizzly.  All  three  balls  had  taken  effect. 
Rex  had  hit  her  in  the  breast,  but  too  high  to  touch 
the  heart.  Both  balls  from  the  guns  of  Ham  and 
Dill  had  passed  through  her  heart. 

Suddenly,  while  they  were  bending  over  the  dead 
bear,  all  were  startled  by  the  sound  of  the  rush  of 
feet  close  to  them,  and  the  next  instant  a  ball  of  fur 
tumbled  against  Rex,  nearly  knocking  him  off  his 
feet. 

"Th'  cub!  Th'  cub!"  exclaimed  Ham.  "I 
knowed  she  had  a  cub,"  and  he  caught  the  young 
bear  up  by  the  nape  of  the  neck  and  held  him  up  for 
the  inspection  of  the  boys. 

"Oh,  but  isn't  he  a  funny  little  fellow  ?  Don't  kill 
him.  I  am  going  to  keep  him,"  and  Rex  reached 
out  and  took  the  squirming  little  fellow  in  his  arms. 

The  cub  whined  and  nestled  up  close  to  his  pro- 
tector. 

"Just  look!"  exclaimed  the  delighted  boy.  "He 
knows  I  won't  harm  him.  Why,  he's  as  gentle  as 
a  kitten,"  and  he  stroked  the  soft  fur. 

By  this  time  the  men  from  the  camp,  headed  by 
Captain  Tom,  had  reached  the  woods,  and  were 
hallooing  and  calling  to  know  what  had  happened. 


An  Adventure  With  a  Grizzly  55 

Ham  and  the  boys  answered  them  with  triumphant 
yells;  and  in  another  minute  Captain  Tom  and  a 
half  dozen  of  the  trappers  came  crashing  through 
the  brush.  They  quickly  gathered  around  the  dead 
bear,  and  examined  the  carcass  with  all  the  interest 
of  experts.  Not  one  of  them  but  had  had  his  own 
battles  with  grizzlies;  and  now  each,  after  having 
listened  to  how  this  one  was  killed,  felt  called  upon 
to  relate  some  of  his  own  experiences  with  grizzlies, 
all  of  which  was  intensely  interesting  to  Rex  and 
Dill. 

But  Captain  Tom  soon  cut  this  story  telling  short, 
and  set  the  men  to  skinning  the  bear.  The  hide  off, 
they  cut  the  choicest  steaks  from  the  body,  and, 
loaded  with  the  meat  and  the  skin,  returned  to  camp, 
Rex  still  carrying  the  little  bear  cub  in  his  arms. 
In  a  short  time  the  packs  were  again  on  the  backs  of 
the  mules,  and  all  were  ready  to  resume  the  journey. 

At  first  Captain  Tom  had  declared  that  the  grizzly 
cub  must  be  killed ;  but  so  earnestly  did  Rex  and  Dill 
plead  for  the  little  fellow's  life  and  for  permission 
to  take  him  with  them,  that  at  last  he  reluctantly 
yielded,  thinking  that  the  bother  the  cub  would  cause 
the  boys  would  soon  make  them  willing  to  get  rid 
of  him.  Accordingly  the  two  lads  took  turns  in 
carrying  the  little  animal  on  the  saddles  in  front  of 
them ;  and,  to  the  surprise  of  all,  got  along  with  very 
little  trouble  on  the  part  of  bruin. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  LONELY  GRAVE 

THAT  night  Rex  and  Dill  ate  their  first  grizzly 
bear  steak;  and  both  agreed  with  Ham,  that 
"when  a  feller's  powerful  hungry  it'll  go  down  all 
right,  but  'tain't  no  more  th'  equil  of  venison  than 
sourcrout  is  of  plumb-puddinV  They  found  the 
meat  tough,  with  a  peculiar  flavor  that  neither  lad 
liked.  Possibly,  if  the  bear  had  been  young  and 
fat,  instead  of  old  and  poor,  the  meat  would  have 
tasted  better. 

The  camp  for  the  night  was  pitched  in  a  beauti- 
ful little  valley,  through  which  flowed  a  swift  stream 
of  pure  water,  cold  with  the  snows  of  the  moun- 
tains. An  abundance  of  grass  furnished  ample 
food  for  the  horses  and  mules,  which  were  hobbled 
and  allowed  to  feed  at  will  until  it  began  to  grow 
dark,  when  they  were  safely  picketed  near  the  camp 
where  they  could  be  guarded  during  the  dark  hours 
of  the  night.  The  two  tents  were  set  up  in  a  little 
grove  of  cottonwoods  near  the  water,  where  there 
was  an  abundance  of  wood  for  fuel.  The  packs 
from  the  backs  of  the  mules  were  placed  in  one  of 
the  tents,  to  protect  them  from  the  damp  of  the  night 
or  a  possible  fall  of  rain;  while  the  other  tent  was 

56 


A  Lonely  Grave  57 

reserved  for  sleeping  quarters  for  the  boys  and  any 
of  the  men  who  cared  to  seek  its  shelter  for  the 
night.  In  case  of  a  storm,  of  course,  both  tents 
could  be  utilized  by  the  trappers ;  but,  unless  driven 
to  their  shelter  by  rain,  the  majority  of  these  hardy 
men  preferred  to  roll  themselves  up  in  their  blankets 
unsheltered  save  by  the  broad  tent  of  the  skies  or 
the  friendly  branches  of  a  tree. 

When  it  began  to  grow  dark  a  great  camp-fire 
was  built  in  front  of  the  two  tents,  between  the 
trunks  of  two  tall  cottonwood  trees;  and  the  men, 
lighting  their  pipes,  squatted  down  around  it  for  a 
quiet  smoke  and  talk  before  rolling  themselves  up 
in  their  blankets  for  the  night. 

Rex  and  Dill  never  forgot  this  first  night's  en- 
campment with  the  trappers.  There  were  many 
things  to  impress  it  deeply  on  their  memories.  The 
scene  itself — the  clean  white  of  the  new  tents  glisten- 
ing in  the  bright  light  of  the  camp-fire  under  the 
overhanging  shadows  of  the  trees;  the  swift-flow- 
ing waters  of  the  river  sparkling  redly  in  the  fire- 
light; the  surrounding  mountains,  standing  out  in 
the  darkness,  shadowy,  grim,  mysterious ;  the  buck- 
skin-dressed men  seated  around  the  camp-fire,  with 
its  red  sparks  and  flames  shooting  skyward  and 
lighting  up  their  rugged  features ;  the  mysterious 
surrounding  silence  of  the  great  wilderness,  broken 
only  by  the  weird  sound  of  the  night,  the  murmurs 
of  the  river,  the  voices  of  the  men  and  the  move- 
ments of  the  restless  horses  and  mules;  and  high 


58  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

above  all,  shining  down  serenely  through  the  still 
air,  the  stars  God  hung  in  the  mysteries  of  the  skies 
— all  appealed  powerfully  to  the  poetry  and  romance 
in  their  young  lives. 

Then  there  was  the  talk  of  the  men.  The  roar- 
ing camp-fire,  the  smoke  from  their  pipes,  the  sur- 
rounding darkness  and  silence,  all  seemed  to  blend, 
and  to  mellow  and  warm  their  memories,  until  they 
were  in  exactly  the  right  mood  for  story  telling; 
and  for  a  couple  of  hours  Rex  and  Dill  listened  en- 
thralled to  the  tales  of  these  hardy  Knights  of  the 
Plains  and  the  Mountains — thrilling  encounters  and 
desperate  battles  with  Indians,  bear  fights,  the  hard- 
ships and  perils  and  grandeur  and  mysteries  of  the 
mighty  mountains — told  with  all  the  realistic  vivid- 
ness of  an  actual  actor  in  the  scenes  described. 

And,  when  at  last  the  camp-fire  had  burnt  low, 
and  the  men,  with  their  saddles  for  pillows,  their 
rifles  by  their  sides,  to  protect  them  from  dampness 
and  to  have  them  ready  for  instant  use,  should  there 
be  need,  rolled  themselves  up  in  their  blankets  and 
stretched  themselves  out  on  the  ground  for  sleep, 
it  was  two  awed  and  very  quiet  boys  that  crept  to 
their  tent  and  prepared  for  the  night's  slumber. 
They  had  been  listening  to  the  deeds  of  men  done 
in  the  strenuous  times  when  our  country  was  hot 
in  the  matrix. 

"I  wonder  if  we  will  have  any  such  adventures 
ourselves/'  Rex  said  longingly,  as  he  rolled  himself 
up  in  his  blanket. 


A  Lonely  Grave  59 

"I  hope  so/'  Dill  answered.  "But  wouldn't  the 
boys  back  in  New  Orleans  liked  to  have  been  with 
us  to-night,  sitting  around  the  camp-fire,  listening 
to  those  thrilling  stories  from  the  lips  of  the  men 
who  actually  did  the  things  they  told  about — and 
they  did  not  seem  to  think  they  had  done  anything 
out  of  the  ordinary,  and  they  hadn't  for  them." 

"No,  not  for  them,"  Rex  responded,  with  em- 
phasis on  the  them.  "I  tell  you,  Dill,  this  is  going 
to  be  a  great  trip  for  us ;  and,  if  it  wasn't  for  getting 
those  papers  and  finding  Kit  Carson,  I'd  be  just 
about  as  happy  as  a  boy  can  be.  But  I  suppose 
we'd  better  be  getting  to  sleep,"  and  he  sighed  and 
rolled  over  and  closed  his  eyes — and  in  five  minutes 
both  boys  were  sound  asleep. 

The  next  morning  Rex  awoke  with  a  yell.  He 
had  felt  something  cold  touch  his  face,  and,  sleepily 
putting  out  his  hand  to  learn  what  it  was,  his  fin- 
gers had  come  in  contact  with  the  soft  fur  of  some 
animal,  and,  having  just  been  dreaming  that  an 
enormous  grizzly  bear  was  about  to  swallow  him 
whole,  the  sudden  fright  of  the  touch  had  brought 
the  yell  from  him  before  he  was  fairly  awake.  The 
next  instant  a  low  growl,  ending  in  a  pathetic  whine, 
told  him  that  it  was  the  grizzly  bear  cub,  which  he 
had  tied  the  night  before  by  means  of  a  buckskin 
thong  fastened  around  the  cub's  neck  to  a  stake 
driven  into  the  ground  near  the  spot  where  he  slept. 
Rex  gathered  the  little  ball  of  fur  into  his  arms  and 
the  cub  nestled  up  to  him  as  contentedly  as  a  kitten. 


60  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

"What  is  it?  Snakes?"  and  Ham  thrust  his 
head  through  the  tent  opening  and  looked  anxiously 
around. 

"No,"  answered  Rex  just  a  little  sheepishly;  "it 
was  only  Buster  kissing  me  good  morning."  Bus- 
ter was  the  name  Rex  had  given  the  bear  cub. 

"Well,"  laughed  Ham,  "don't  let  Buster  kiss  so 
loud  next  time.  Thought  sure  'twas  snakes. 
Now,"  and  he  quickly  entered  the  tent,  "it's  time 
everybody  was  up.  So  tumble  out,"  and  reaching 
down  suddenly  be  caught  hold  of  a  blanket  in  each 
hand  and,  with  a  sudden  jerk,  tumbled  both  boys 
out  on  the  ground. 

The  trappers  were  early  risers.  Up  with  the 
sun,  was  their  motto;  and,  when  traveling,  they 
were  nearly  always  ready  to  start  on  the  day's 
journey  by  sunrise. 

In  a  few  minutes  Rex  and  Dill  were  into  the  few 
clothes  they  had  taken  off,  and  out  where  the 
trappers  already  had  the  coffee  pots  boiling,  the 
"biscuit"  baking  and  the  meat  roasting.  The  river 
was  their  wash-bowl ;  and  a  dash  of  its  cold  waters 
over  their  faces  and  heads  cleared  their  brains  in 
short  order. 

Ham  had  been  out  already  and  shot  a  deer;  so 
they  had  venison  for  breakfast  that  morning,  and  to 
the  hungry  boys  no  meat  ever  tasted  better. 

Their  journey  northward  was  now  through  an 
exceedingly  rough  and  picturesque  country.  When 
possible  they  followed  the  shores  of  some  stream  of 


A  Lonely  Grave  61 

water,  which  often  would  widen  out  into  beautiful 
grass-covered  flower-decked  valleys  a  mile  or  more 
in  width,  and  again  would  narrow  down  into  can- 
yons, with  precipitous  walls  of  solid  rock  hundreds 
of  feet  high.  Frequently  they  were  obliged  to  make 
wide  detours,  because  there  was  not  room  between 
these  walls  of  rock  and  the  water  of  the  river  even 
for  the  feet  of  their  mules  to  pass.  Sometimes  the 
trail  wound  around  the  sides  of  a  mountain,  fol- 
lowing a  narrow  shelf  of  rocks  hundreds  of  feet 
high,  where  a  single  misstep  of  man  or  horse  or 
mule  meant  instant  death  on  the  rocks  perhaps  five 
hundred  feet  below.  Again  the  trail  would  pass 
up  a  mountainside  so  steep  that  the  trappers  had 
to  get  behind  the  pack-mules  and  push  to  enable 
them  to  carry  their  loads  upward ;  and,  perhaps,  in 
the  next  hour  they  would  be  going  down  a  declivity 
where  the  mules  had  to  be  held  back  with  ropes  in 
order  to  keep  them  from  sliding  down  with  the 
speed  of  a  coasting  sled.  Once  every  mule  and 
horse  had  to  be  lowered  twenty  feet  with  ropes 
down  the  precipitous  bank  of  a  stream  of  water ;  and 
twice  they  had  to  be  raised  a  dozen  or  more  feet 
through  the  air  in  the  same  manner  to  get  them  out 
of  a  narrow  chasm  into  which  the  trail  had  led  them. 
Then  there  were  countless  bridgeless  streams  of 
water  to  cross,  some  of  them  deep  and  swift  and 
wide,  but  the  majority  of  them  narrow  and  shal- 
low. These  had  to  be  waded  or  swam  or,  when 
too  deep  and  swift,  rafted.  The  rafts  were  made 


62  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

by  tying  a  number  of  logs  together  with  ropes  until 
large  enough  to  bear  the  weight  of  a  couple  of  mules 
or  horses  and  a  man.  Then  these  had  to  be  rowed 
or  polled  or  pulled  across  the  river.  Hard,  dan- 
gerous and  frequently  very  wet  work,  as  Rex  and 
Dill  both  learned  the  very  first  time  they  crossed 
a  river  by  this  method,  both  boys  being  hurled  head- 
first into  the  swift  water  by  the  sudden  capsizing  of 
their  raft,  and  rescued  only  after  each  lad  had  swal- 
lowed about  a  gallon  of  water  and  been  carried  by 
the  swift  current,  notwithstanding  both  lads  were 
good  swimmers,  twenty  or  more  rods  down  the 
stream.  In  addition  to  these  perils  of  river- 
crossing,  there  were  the  dreadful  beds  of  quicksand 
hidden  underneath  the  water,  that  would  clutch  and 
hold  and  drag  down  the  strongest  man  or  beast, 
unless  rescue  was  near. 

Once  Pom  and  Brimstone,  while  crossing  a  wide 
but  shallow  stream  of  water,  were  caught  in  the 
grip  of  the  death-sands;  and  the  yells  that  came 
from  the  negro  boy,  who  in  his  fright  had  jumped 
off  his  horse,  when  he  felt  the  clutch  of  the 
sands  under  the  water  pulling,  pulling  him  slowly 
downward,  and  the  contortions  of  his  fat  face  and 
body  as  he  vainly  strove  to  free  himself  from  the 
holds  of  the  sand-devils,  would  have  been  ludicrous 
in  the  extreme  had  not  his  peril  been  so  real  and 
pressing. 

A  couple  of  strong  ropes  were  quickly  thrown 
to  him,  and  he  was  told  to  fasten  one  around 


A  Lonely  Grave  63 

his  own  body  under  the  arms  and  to  tie  the  other 
to  the  pommel  of  Brimstone's  saddle.  This  done, 
all  the  trappers  caught  hold  of  the  other  ends  of 
the  ropes ;  and,  with  a  heave-ho-heave,  the  mule  and 
the  negro  boy  were  yanked  out  of  the  sand  and 
hauled,  spluttering  and  sprawling  and  snorting  and 
blowing,  through  the  water  to  the  safety  of  the 
shore.  After  that  nothing  could  induce  Pom  or 
Brimstone  to  enter  a  stream  of  water,  unless  pre- 
ceded by  the  boys  or  one  of  the  trappers. 

"I  done  feeled  de  fingahs  an'  soft  cold  wet  palms 
ob  dem  sand  debbils  creepy-crawlin'  up  mah  legs, 
fo'  to  git  hold  ob  dis  niggah's  essopagus,"  he  de- 
clared, "an'  I's  nebber  gwine  to  gib  dem  'nothah 
chance.  I's  done  got  to  look  out  fo'  my  own  ep- 
pie-der-mus." 

To  Pom  the  sand  devils  were  real  devils,  with 
real  fingers  and  soft  cold  wet  palms,  seeking  to 
grip  him  by  the  throat  and  pull  him  under  the 
water;  and  who  would  get  him  sure,  if  they  ever 
got  another  hold  of  him,  and  Pom  intended  never 
again  to  give  them  the  chance  to  get  that  hold. 

Another  and  possibly  one  of  the  worst  difficulties 
our  trappers  had  to  surmount  in  their  journey 
northward,  was  the  down-timber.  Sometimes  a 
heavy  snow-slide  or  land-slide  would  mow  a  wide 
swath  through  the  trees  that  covered  the  mountain- 
side, piling  their  trunks  one  on  top  the  other,  as  if 
the  devil  had  been  playing  jackstraws  with  them, 
over  a  long  stretch  of  ground,  leaving  an  almost 


64          With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

impassable  barrier  to  pack-mules.  When  one  of 
these  patches  of  down-timber  crossed  the  trail,  there 
was  only  one  of  two  things  for  our  friends  to  do — go 
around  it,  which  might  mean  hours  of  the  rough- 
est kind  of  traveling,  or  cut  their  way  through  it 
with  their  axes  and  hatchets,  a  kind  of  labor  that 
no  trapper  enjoyed. 

Again,  almost  without  warning,  a  sudden  storm 
of  rain  or  hail  and  wind  might  sweep  down  upon 
them  from  the  mountain  tops,  drenching  them  to 
the  skins,  and  filling  ravines  and  chasms  and  can- 
yons, that  a  moment  before  had  been  dry,  with 
roaring  torrents  of  rushing  water.  Indeed,  twice 
they  had  narrow  escapes  from  these  sudden  moun- 
tain floods,  having  been  caught  in  deep  ravines  and 
only  saving  themselves  by  climbing  for  life,  pushing 
and  pulling  the  animals  along  with  them,  up  the 
nearly  precipitous  sides,  until  above  the  reach  of  the 
water,  and  remaining  there  until  the  flood  of  water 
had  gone  by. 

There  were  many  deer  and  antelope  and  elk,  with 
now  and  then  a  buffalo,  in  these  wild  regions,  so 
they  never  wanted  for  fresh  meat;  but  they  had  no 
time  for  hunting  and  only  killed  what  they  needed 
for  food.  They  sometimes  saw  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tain sheep  and  the  Mountain  goat,  clambering  over 
the  rocks  high  above  their  heads;  but  they  did  not 
get  within  shooting  distance  of  either  of  these  ani- 
mals. They  frequently  saw  grizzly  bears  and 
mountain  lions  and  lynxes  and  wild  cats;  and  Rex 


A  Lonely  Grave  65 

and  Dill  between  them  killed  half  a  dozen  lynxes 
and  wild  cats  and  two  mountain  lions;  but  no  one 
cared  to  molest  the  grizzlies,  and  only  once,  when 
an  ill-tempered  old  fellow  charged  the  whole  train, 
was  one  killed,  and  then  it  took  twelve  rifle  balls 
to  stop  him. 

"You'll  have  plenty  of  hunting  when  we  get  into 
the  beaver  country,"  Captain  Tom  promised  the 
boys,  when  they  saw  deer  and  antelope  and  buffalo 
almost  within  gunshot,  and  yet  were  not  permitted 
to  go  after  them.  "If  you  want  to  find  Kit  Carson 
before  the  snows  of  winter  come,  we  must  get  to  the 
beaver  country  just  as  soon  as  we  can;  and  then 
'tain't  at  all  likely  we  will  run  onto  Kit  'til  we  get 
to  the  rendezvous,  but  'tis  our  only  chance." 

And  with  this  promise  the  boys,  who  never  saw 
a  deer  without  wishing  to  go  on  the  hunt,  were 
obliged  to  be  content. 

They  saw  many  Indians,  but  usually  in  small 
scattered  parties  of  a  few  families  each.  At  that 
season  of  the  year  nearly  all  the  tribes  were  out  on 
the  plains,  where  the  great  herds  of  buffalos  were. 
The  Indian  depended  largely  upon  the  buffalo  for 
his  food,  and  always,  when  possible,  kept  near  his 
source  of  supplies.  This  was  the  reason  why  Cap- 
tain Tom  had  taken  the  mountain  route  northward. 
By  so  doing  he  hoped  to  avoid  meeting  large  and 
warlike  parties  of  Indians,  who  might  attack  his 
small  band  of  trappers  and  prove  a  constant  source 
of  annoyance  and  danger. 


66  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  'Rockies 

Captain  Tom  was  an  exceedingly  cautious  leader. 
When  in  a  region  where  the  Indians  were  suspected 
in  the  least  of  being  hostile,  he  always  kept  two  of 
his  best  men  a  hundred  rods  or  more  in  advance  of 
the  main  body,  to  prevent  ambuscading  or  sudden 
and  unexpected  meetings  with  bands  of  warriors. 
At  night  the  horses  and  mules  were  corralled  near 
where  the  trappers  slept ;  and,  as  an  additional  pre- 
caution against  the  Indians  stampeding  them,  each 
animal  was  strongly  hobbled.  During  the  hours 
of  darkness  three  men  were  always  on  guard,  the 
guard  being  divided  into  watches  of  three  hours 
each. 

Nearly  all  Indians,  even  those  who  were  thought 
to  be  friendly,  were  inveterate  horse  thieves  and  the 
trappers  had  to  be  constantly  on  the  watch  to  guard 
against  their  depredations.  In  those  uninhabited 
wilds  it  was  almost  impossible  to  replace  a  stolen 
horse  or  mule;  and,  as  these  animals  were  invalu- 
able to  the  trappers — carrying  themselves  and  their 
outfits,  transporting  their  furs  to  market,  and  even, 
sometimes,  yielding  up  their  lives  to  keep  them  from 
starving — the  trappers  guarded  them  as  carefully 
as  they  did  their  own  lives. 

The  mosquitoes  and  the  flies  were  a  never  ceasing 
source  of  discomfort  to  men  and  beasts,  except 
when  the  chill  of  the  night  stiffened  their  wings  and 
made  them  torpid.  During  the  warm  hours  of  the 
day  they  bit  and  stung  and  buzzed  and  whirled  in 
swarms  around  the  heads  of  the  men  and  the  bodies 


A  Lonely  Grave  67 

of  the  animals,  to  their  very  great  annoyance,  but, 
fortunately,  that  was  as  far  as  their  power  of  evil 
went. 

Such  were  the  scenes  witnessed,  such  the  hard- 
ships and  perils  endured  and  braved,  such  the 
methods  of  traveling  pursued  by  our  little  band  of 
trappers,  as  for  nearly  four  weeks,  they  slowly 
journeyed  northward,  without  meeting  with  any 
serious  accidents  or  fatal  misadventures,  although 
something  interesting  or  amusing  or  adventurous 
was  constantly  occurring.  But  now,  because  of 
other  and  more  important  coming  events,  we  can 
only  thus  briefly  allude  to  the  details  of  this  journey 
and  must  hasten  with  our  friends  into  the  beaver 
country,  where  they  are  to  begin  their  trapping  and 
their  hunt  for  Kit  Carson. 

On  the  twenty-fifth  day  out  from  Santa  Fe,  about 
an  hour  before  sunset,  Captain  Tom  Roberts  and 
Hammer  Jones,  who  were  doing  scout  duty  some 
hundred  rods  in  advance  of  the  train  of  trappers, 
suddenly  halted  their  horses  on  the  top  of  a  high 
rocky  ridge  toward  which  they  had  been  riding 
across  a  small  valley,  and,  turning  in  their  saddles, 
pulled  off  their  hats,  and,  swinging  them  around 
their  heads,  gave  the  wild  view-halloo  of  the  plains. 

Instantly  all  was  excitement  in  the  little  band  of 
trappers. 

"It's  a  herd  of  buffalos!"  shouted  one,  whip- 
ping up  his  mule. 

"Hurrah,  it's  the  Platte!"  yelled  another.     "Git 


68          With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

up,  Blinks,"  and  he  hit  his  mule  a  stinging  crack 
with  his  quirt,  and  galloped  off  in  the  direction  of 
Captain  Tom  and  Ham. 

"Hurry!"  cried  Rex  to  Dill,  as  he  whipped  up 
his  horse.  "Let's  be  the  first  to  get  there.  Oh,  I 
hope  it  is  a  herd  of  buffalos,  and  that  Captain  Tom 
will  let  us  hunt  them!"  and,  with  Dill  riding  close 
by  his  side,  the  excited  boy  sped  as  fast  as  he  could 
make  his  pony  go  toward  the  spot  where  Captain 
Tom  and  Ham  were  still  swinging  their  hats  and 
yelling. 

"Tell  dem  I's  comin'  too,  like  er  yeller  streak 
ob  lightnin',"  called  Pom,  as,  lashing  Brimstone,  he 
started  after  the  boys,  his  mule  bounding  over  the 
ground  like  a  large  jack-rabbit,  while  he  bounded 
up  and  down  on  the  mule's  back,  as  if  he  were  made 
out  of  black  rubber. 

Rex  and  Dill  were  mounted  on  two  exceptionally 
fleet  ponies;  and  they  were  soon  at  the  head  of  the 
procession  of  galloping  horses  and  mules,  and  rode 
up  to  where  Captain  Tom  and  Ham  still  sat  on 
their  horses  a  good  five  rods  in  the  lead. 

"What  is  it?  Where  is  it?"  shouted  both  boys, 
pulling  up  their  ponies. 

"There's  the  Platte,  and  there's  your  buffalo! 
You  shall  have  your  buffalo  hunt  to-morrow,"  and 
Captain  Tom  first  pointed  across  the  little  valley 
stretching  below  them  to  where  in  the  distance  a 
stream  of  water  showed,  and  then  on  beyond  the 


A  Lonely  Grave  69 

stream  of  water  to  where  the  valley  was  black  with 
thousands  of  buffalos. 

"Wh-e-w !"  exclaimed  Rex,  as  his  eyes  took  in  the 
vastness  of  the  herd.  "There  must  be  millions  of 
them!" 

"No-up,"  laughed  Ham.  "Only  nine  hundred 
an'  ninety-nine  thousand,  seven  hundred  an'  ninety- 
two.  Me  an'  Tom  's  jest  counted  'em." 

"Golly,  am  dem  black  spots  all  buffaf ellers !" 
grinned  Pom,  the  whites  of  his  eyes  growing  wider 
and  rounder,  as  he  brought  Brimstone  to  a  halt  by 
the  side  of  the  boys.  "Dat  am  de  biggest  bunch 
ob  humpback  cows  dat  dis  niggah  done  did  ebber 
seed.  I's  gwine  to  kill  one  ob  dem  buffafellers,  jes' 
fo'  to  show  dem  low  scan'lous  niggahs  back  dar  in 
Santa  Fe  dat  a  Kentuck  niggah  ain't  scart  ob 
nothin',"  and  Pom  puffed  out  his  fat  chest  and  sat 
very  straight  on  the  back  of  Brimstone.  Pom  was 
always  very  brave  while  the  danger  was  yet  afar 
off.  He  was  also  very  proud  of  the  fact  that  he 
was  born  in  "Ol'  Kentuck." 

By  this  time  all  of  the  little  band  of  trappers 
had  gathered  on  the  top  of  the  ridge,  and  were 
scanning  the  country  beyond  with  eager  eyes. 
Nearly  all  of  them  had  hunted  and  trapped  in  this 
region  before,  and  the  eyes  of  these  searched  for 
familiar  landmarks. 

"It's  th'  Platte,  sartain  sure,"  cried  one.  "An 
th'  last  time  I  war  har  we  camped  right  down  thar 


70  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

in  that  bunch  of  cottonwoods  an'  willers  near  th' 
river.  I'd  know  th'  spot  anywhar,  'cause  'twar  har 
them  cuss'd  Blackfeet  killed  my  partner,  Big  Frank 
Williams.  'Most  on  you  knowed  Frank,"  and  he 
turned  to  the  trappers.  "But  I  got  th'  Injun  what 
got  him.  We  buried  him  under  that  big  cotton- 
wood  that  stands  lone-like  tew  th'  right  of  th' 
bunch.  We  war  with  Jim  Bridger  then  an'  Kit 
Carson ;  an'  when  Kit  saw  Frank  all  muterlated  by 
them  red  devils  his  lips  came  tewgether  an'  he 
walked  straight  tew  Bridger  an'  asks  tew  be  allowed 
tew  go  after  them  Injuns ;  an'  Bridger  told  him  tew 
go  an'  take  as  many  trappers  with  him  as  he  wanted. 
Kit  asked  for  volunteers,  an'  every  last  one  on  us 
volunteered;  but  Kit  picked  out  ten  on  us,  an'  we 
got  after  them  devils  as  fast  as  our  horses  could 
take  us.  Th'  next  day  'bout  dusk  we  came  tew 
whar  th'  Injuns  war  camped  in  a  lettle  valley  whar 
thar  war  plenty  of  grass  an'  water  an'  trees — thirty 
buck  warriors,  all  in  their  war  paint,  a-gettin'  ready 
for  th'  scalp-dance,  tew  cel'brate  th'  takin'  of  a 
white  man's  scalp.  Reckon  they  didn't  know  Kit 
Carson  was  with  us,  or  they  wouldn't  have  ben  so 
careless-like  an'  dead  sartain  they  war  safe  from 
all  pursuit,  leastwise  they  had  no  sentries  out  an' 
we  crept  up  close  as  we  dared  an'  waited  for  th' 
cel'bratin'  tew  begin. 

"In  'bout  an  hour  they  was  ready  an'  proper 
excited;  an'  when  a  big  buck  jumps  up  an'  begins 
prancin'  'round,  an'  swingin'  his  scalper  in  one 


A  Lonely  Grave  71 

hand  an'  a  scalp  in  th'  other  that  I  knowed  by  its 
long  yeller-like  ha'r,  I  couldn't  hold  my  dander 
longer,  for  I  knowed  he  was  th'  Injun  I  wanted,  an' 
I  pulled  th'  trigger,  an'  th'  Injun  whirled  round  an' 
went  over  backwards  into  th'  fire. 

"  'Give  it  tew  'em,  boys ! '  yelled  Kit,  'bout  tew 
seconds  after  I  shot,  jest  when  every  Injun  had 
jumped  to  his  feet  an'  showed  plain  in  th'  firelight ; 
an'  ten  more  rifles  cracked,  an'  ten  more  Injuns 
went  down,  an'  th'  rest  on  'em,  screechin'  like  devils, 
legged  it  for  th'  rocks,  not  stoppin'  even  tew  git 
their  weapons  nor  hosses,  with  us  a-yellin'  after  'em. 

"We  got  thirty  good  hosses,  an'  eleven  dead  In- 
juns, an'  larnt  them  Blackfeet  a  lesson;  an'  I  had 
th'  saterfaction  of  puttin'  Frank's  scalp  back  on  his 
head,  whar  it  belonged,  an'  burying  it  'long  'with 
him.  Thar  ain't  a  man  in  all  th'  west  I'd  ruther 
have  with  me  than  Kit  Carson,  when  it  comes  tew 
Injun  fittin'.  He  always  seems  tew  know  jest  what 
tew  do  at  jest  th'  right  moment,  an'  does  it;  an' 
once  on  th'  trail  he'll  never  give  up  'til  he  gits  what 
he's  after.  Yes,  it  war  right  under  that  tree  whar 
we  buried  Big  Frank,"  and  the  trapper  pointed  to 
the  lone  cottonwood,  "an'  I  reckon  my  mark  is  on 
it  yit." 

The  camp  that  night  was  made  in  the  "bunch" 
of  cottonwoods,  not  without  a  shiver  or  two  on  the 
part  of  Rex  and  Dill  as  they  thought  of  the  trap- 
per's story  and  the  lonely  grave  under  the  cotton- 
wood  tree. 


72  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

Before  it  became  too  dark  to  see  the  two  boys 
visited  the  grave  with  the  trapper,  and  stood  with 
uncovered  heads  near  the  little  mound  of  grass. 
This  was  what  they  read  rudely  cut  in  the  bark  of 
the  tree  by  the  trapper's  knife : 

FRANK  WILLIAMS 
KILLED  BI  INJUNS 

SEPT  10  1831 
HE  ALWAYS  FIT  ONEST 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  GREAT  BUFFALO  HUNT 

T  ONG  before  sunrise  the  next  morning  Rex  and 
*-^  Dill  were  up  getting  ready  for  the  great  buffalo 
hunt.  Neither  of  the  boys  had  ever  shot  a  buffalo ; 
but  both  had  read  and  heard  innumerable  stories  of 
the  wild  thrilling  excitement  felt,  when  the  hunter 
on  his  horse  dashed  into  the  midst  of  a  herd  of 
buffalos,  rushing  wild  with  fright  over  the  plains, 
like  a  great  tidal  wave  of  bellowing  horns  and  hoofs 
and  huge  bounding  bodies;  and  to  hunt  buffalos 
on  horseback  had  long  been  one  of  their  greatest 
ambitions,  and  now  that  it  was  to  be  gratified  two 
happier  boys  could  not  have  been  found  anywhere. 
Both  lads  had  bought  buffalo  ponies,  that  is,  horses 
trained  in  buffalo  hunting,  and  as  each  was  a  good 
shot  with  rifle  or  pistol,  they  felt  as  if  they  cer- 
tainly ought  to  be  able  to  kill  at  least  one  buffalo 
apiece  out  of  so  many,  for,  to  the  joy  of  all,  the 
morning  found  the  valley  a  mile  from  where  they 
were  encamped  still  covered  with  a  multitude  of 
grazing  buffalos. 

"Hadn't  we  better  take  our  rifles,  too?"  and  Rex 
turned  a  pair  of  inquiring  eyes  to  Ham,  who  was 
superintending  their  preparations.  "A  pistol  looks 

73 


74  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

like  a  small  thing  with  which  to  kill  so  big  an  ani- 
mal." 

"No,"  Ham  answered.  "Th'  guns  would  be  in 
your  way,  an'  th'  pistol  will  kill  jest  as  quick  as  th' 
rifle,  if  th'  ball  hits  th'  right  spot.  Now  be  sure 
an'  aim  jest  a  leetle  ahind  th'  fore  leg,  an'  don't  fire 
until  you're  abreast  an'  so  close  you  could  lay  your 
hand  on  th'  buffalo's  back —  Then  look  out  for 
horns!  or  th'  first  thing  you  know  you  an'  your 
hoss  will  be  up  in  th'  air,  th'  hoss  with  horn  holes 
in  his  belly  big  enough  to  run  an  arm  in,  an'  th' 
buffalo  ready  to  horn  you  up  th'  moment  you  hit 
th'  ground." 

Bridles,  saddles,  weapons,  everything  that  was 
to  be  used  in  the  hunt  were  carefully  examined  and 
all  the  weak  places  made  strong;  for  buffalo  hunt- 
ing on  horseback  was  no  child's  play,  and  a  broken 
strap  or  a  loose  cinch  might  mean  death  on  the 
sharp  horns  of  an  enraged  buffalo  bull. 

Captain  Tom  selected  five  men,  all  of  them  ex- 
perienced buffalo  hunters,  to  take  part  in  the  hunt. 
The  remaining  trappers  were  left  to  guard  the 
camp,  with  strict  injunctions  to  keep  a  constant 
look  out  for  Indians.  They  were  now  in  a  region 
frequented  by  the  dreaded  Blackfeet,  where  eternal 
vigilance  alone  could  assure  them  safety;  and  Cap- 
tain Tom  wisely  considered  an  ounce  of  precau- 
tions better  than  ten  pounds  of  fight. 

By  the  time  the  sun  was  half  an  hour  high  all 
were  ready  for  the  hunt.  Captain  Tom  sat  on  the 


The  Great  Buffalo  Hunt  75 

back  of  Don  Lucifer,  with  the  five  trappers  and  Rex 
and  Dill,  mounted  on  their  horses,  by  his  side.  In 
the  holsters  of  each  rider  were  two  large  double- 
barreled  pistols.  These  were  the  only  guns  the 
hunters  took  with  them;  for,  as  Ham  said,  there 
was  no  need  of  lugging  a  heavy  rifle  in  a  buffalo 
hunt,  where  the  horse  is  ridden  at  full  gallop  within 
a  few  feet  of  the  running  buffalo,  when  the  pistol 
is  quite  powerful  enough  to  kill  at  such  close  range. 
Behind  them  sat  Pom  on  the  back  of  Brimstone,  an 
old  double-barreled  shotgun  loaded  with  buckshot 
that  somehow  had  come  into  his  possession,  held 
across  the  saddle  in  front  of  him.  Pom  that  morn- 
ing had  had  a  close  view  of  a  huge  buffalo  bull; 
and,  after  that  sight,  nothing  could  induce  him  to 
depend  on  the  pistol  in  the  coming  hunt.  There 
was  an  anxious,  yet  determined  look  on  his  fat  black 
face;  and  he  kept  glancing  down  at  the  gun  across 
his  saddle-bow,  as  if  he  needed  the  constant  as- 
surance of  its  presence  to  bolster  up  his  courage. 

The  buffalos  covered  a  widening  of  the  valley 
a  mile  or  more  to  the  north  of  them,  and  about  mid- 
way between  the  buffalos  and  the  hunters  was  a  low 
ridge  of  rocks  extending  half-way  across  the  valley. 

Captain  Tom's  plan  was  to  ride  up  behind  this 
ridge,  so  as  to  be  out  of  sight  of  the  buffalos;  and 
then  from  its  top  to  sally  down  on  the  herd.  At 
the  order,  charge,  each  hunter  was  to  ride  as  fast 
as  he  could  make  his  horse  go  straight  for  the  herd, 
selecting  the  buffalo  he  wished  to  kill  as  he  rode 


76  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

and,  dashing  close  up  to  its  side,  shoot  it  with  his 
pistol. 

"Advance!"  called  Captain  Tom,  when  all  were 
ready,  and  the  little  cavalcade  of  hunters  started 
on  the  trot  for  the  ridge. 

"Look  out,  nigger,  or  one  of  them  bulls'll  let 
daylight  through  that  black  hide  of  yourn!"  yelled 
one  of  the  trappers  who  had  been  left  behind  to 
Pom. 

"I  heard  a  black  crow  croakin'  from  a  dead  tree 
this  mornin',  an'  that  means  thar'll  be  a  dead  nig- 
ger afore  night,"  warned  another. 

"If  that  old  blunderbus  fails  tew  bring  down  yer 
bull,  nig,  jest  turn  Brimstone's  stern  tew  th'  buf- 
falo, an'  tickle  his  ribs,"  laughed  a  third. 

Pom  and  Brimstone's  buffalo  hunt  had  been  the 
joke  of  the  camp,  and  the  occasion  of  much  good- 
natured  raillery  on  the  part  of  the  trappers,  all  of 
which  the  negro  bore  with  unfailing  good-humor; 
and  now  that  he  was  actually  starting  on  the  hunt, 
each  felt  that  the  climax  of  the  joke  was  about 
reached  and  that  somehow  something  very  funny 
would  be  sure  to  happen  to  Pom  and  Brimstone  be- 
fore the  day's  hunt  was  over — and,  as  usual,  Pom 
and  Brimstone  did  not  disappoint  them. 

When  our  hunters  reached  the  top  of  the  ridge 
the  nearest  buffalos  were  a  hundred  rods  away, 
too  far  for  them  to  take  any  special  notice  of  the 
men  on  horseback. 

"Ride  slowly  down  toward  the  buffalos  until  they 


The  Great  Buffalo  Hunt  77 

take  fright,  then  all  charge,"  was  Captain  Tom's 
brief  command,  as  he  headed  Don  Lucifer  toward 
the  buffalos  and  rode  slowly  down  the  ridge,  the 
trappers  spreading  out  to  right  and  left  of  him  as 
they  neared  the  herd. 

Pom  rode  directly  behind  Rex  and  Dill,  keeping 
Brimstone's  nose  almost  in  contact  with  their 
horses'  tails,  his  eyes  growing  larger  and  rounder 
and  his  grip  on  the  old  shotgun  tighter  the  nearer 
he  came  to  the  buffalos. 

"Massah  Rex,  Massah  Dill,"  there  was  the  faint- 
est perceptible  tremble  in  Pom's  voice,  "if  'bout  a 
million  ob  dem  buffafeller  bulls  comes  a-tearin' 
aftah  Brimstone,  like  dey's  gwine  to  punch  his  ol' 
yeller  ep-pie-der-muss  full  ob  holes,  what's  dis  nig- 
gah  done  gwine  to  do  to  sabe  Brimstone?  I's  only 
got  two  loads  in  dis  ol'  gun,  an'  dar  am  'bout  seb- 
enteen  hundred  million  bufferfellers.  I's  done  took 
a  pow'ful  likin'  to  Brimstone,  an'  I  done  want  no 
ol'  buffafeller  bull's  ho'ns  a-pokin'  'round  in  his 
a-nat-tom-in-a." 

"Just  follow  Jim's-  advice,"  laughed  Rex,  "and 
turn  Brimstone's  stern  to  the  buffalos." 

"Or—" 

But  before  Dill  could  add  his  wise  counsel,  a 
number  of  old  bulls  in  the  outskirts  of  the  herd 
nearest  to  the  hunters,  that  had  been  eyeing  their 
advance  uneasily  for  a  minute  or  two,  suddenly 
lifted  their  heads,  wheeled  about,  and,  with  their 
short  tails  held  stiffly  erect,  galloped  off  as  fast  as 


78          With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

they  could  go;  and  the  next  instant  the  alarm  was 
spreading  through  the  entire  herd. 

"Charge!"  shouted  Captain  Tom,  as  he  struck 
Don  Lucifer  with  his  whip,  and  rushed  after  the 
now  stampeding  buffalos. 

Almost  in  an  instant  the  great  herd  was  in  mo- 
tion. 

Never  before  in  all  their  young  lives  had  Rex  and 
Dill  been  as  excited  as  they  now  were — and  no 
wonder !  It  was  a  tremendous  sight,  as  if  the  very 
bed  of  the  valley  itself  had  been  suddenly  endowed 
with  life,  and  with  a  million  hoofs  beating  the  hard 
ground  was  thundering  off.  All  the  buffalos 
headed  in  one  direction — away  from  the  hunters— 
and  rushed  in  one  enormous  mass  straight  onward, 
bulls  bellowing,  cows  bawling,  horns  rattling 
against  horns,  great  clouds  of  dust  rolling  upward 
like  smoke,  the  very  ground  itself  rumbling  and 
quaking  under  that  enormous  weight  of  moving 
life,  as  if  in  the  throes  of  an  earthquake. 

This  much  Rex  and  Dill  saw  and  heard,  but  in- 
distinctly comprehended  in  their  excitement,  as 
their  fleet  ponies  bore  them  toward  the  herd;  and 
then  they  were  in  the  midst  of  the  buffalos,  their 
eyes  blinded  and  their  nostrils  filled  with  dust,  and 
their  ears  deafened  by  the  bellowings  and  the  bawl- 
ings,  the  clankings  of  horns  against  horns  and  the 
thunders  of  thousands  of  hard  hoofs  hitting  the 
hard  ground  at  the  same  moment.  Here,  in  the 
midst  of  this  wild  confusion,  they  lost  track  of 


The  Great  Buffalo  Hunt  ; 

each  other,  of  everybody  and  everything,  save  the 
one  animal  each  had  singled  out  to  be  his  victim. 

Rex  saw  a  powerful  bull  forging  ahead  at  a  tre- 
mendous speed  for  so  bulky  an  animal,  and  the 
sight  at  once  fired  his  blood.  He  forgot  the  warn- 
ings of  Hammer  Jones,  of  Captain  Tom,  to  leave 
the  bulls  alone  and  shoot  the  young  cows.  He 
must  kill  that  monster,  the  biggest  bull  in  sight; 
and,  with  a  yell,  started  his  pony  after  him. 

The  buffalo  is  not  built  for  speed  like  the  deer ; 
but  it  is  astonishing  sometimes  to  see  how  fast  he 
will  get  over  the  ground  for  a  few  miles ;  and  Rex, 
notwithstanding  his  pony  was  an  exceptionally 
speedy  little  animal,  at  first  did  not  appear  to  be 
able  to  gain  an  inch  on  the  bull.  For  a  mile  or  two 
they  ran  thus,  the  pony  following  close  in  the  track 
of  the  buffalo,  but  unable  to  overtake  the  bull. 
Then  they  passed  over  a  ridge  and  came  to  where 
the  ground  was  rougher.  Here  the  bull  did  not 
seem  to  be  able  to  make  as  good  headway  or  else  he 
was  becoming  tired,  for  the  plucky  little  horse  of 
Rex  now  began  to  gain  slowly,  and  in  the  course 
of  the  next  mile  brought  his  rider  up  close  to  the 
bull's  panting  side. 

What  a  monster  he  now  looked  to  the  boy,  with 
his  lion-like  front  of  shaggy  mane  and  dangling 
beard,  with  his  huge  head  and  shoulders  bounding 
up  and  down  as  he  sped  over  the  rough  ground, 
the  red  tongue  hanging  from  his  open  mouth,  the 
large  blood-shot  eyes  rolling  wildly  backward  at  his 


With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

pursuer,  and  his  breath  coming  and  going  in  great 
puffs  that  sent  the  foam  flying  from  his  jowls ! 

Rex  was  now  so  close  that  he  might  almost  have 
laid  his  hand  upon  the  great  heaving  back;  and  he 
knew  that  the  time  for  action  had  come,  and  drew 
his  pistol  from  its  holster;  but,  for  a  moment,  his 
hand  and  arm  trembled  so  that  he  could  not  take 
aim.  Then  his  nerves  steadied  and,  taking  quick 
aim,  he  fired. 

The  bull  gave  a  tremendous  convulsive  bound, 
half  turned  to  charge,  and  crashed  to  the  ground, 
his  horns  plowing  up  the  dirt.  The  ball  from 
Rex's  pistol  had  pierced  his  heart. 

Rex  stopped  his  horse,  and  took  off  his  hat,  and 
swung  it  around  his  head,  and  stood  up  in  his  stir- 
rups, and  yelled.  It  was  his  first  buffalo,  and  he 
had  killed  it  with  his  first  ball!  And  then,  sud- 
denly, the  yell  died  in  his  throat,  the  hat  dropped 
from  his  hand,  and  his  eyes  stared  straight  across 
the  body  of  the  dead  bull  toward  a  little  rise  of 
ground  not  twenty-five  rods  away,  over  the  brow 
of  which  a  tall  Indian,  running  at  full  speed,  had 
suddenly  appeared,  with  a  huge  buffalo  bull  that  his 
arrow  had  wounded  not  two  rods  behind  him. 
The  bull  was  gaining  at  every  bound.  In  a  few 
minutes  at  most  he  would  overtake  the  Indian; 
and  then,  the  horns  already  red,  doubtless  with 
the  blood  of  the  warrior's  horse,  would  be  redder 
still. 

Rex  shuddered  at  the  sight,  then  suddenly  his 


REX  HAD  EYES  ONLY  FOR  THE  INDIAN. 


The  Great  Buffalo  Hunt  81 

lips  tightened,  and,  shouting  to  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  the  Indian,  he  struck  his  horse  with  his 
whip  and  dashed  straight  toward  the  advancing 
Indian  and  buffalo. 

The  Indian  heard  the  shout,  saw  the  white  boy 
rushing  to  his  rescue,  and  the  sight  seemed  to  put 
redoubled  speed  into  his  flying  legs. 

Rex  had  no  thought  of  his  own  peril.  He 
thought  only  of  saving  the  life  of  the  Indian;  and 
to  do  this  he  knew  that  he  must  get  to  the  Indian 
before  the  bull  did,  and  if  possible,  get  him  on  the 
back  of  his  horse  in  time  to  carry  both  out  of  the 
way  of  the  sharp  horns. 

The  bull  was  wild  with  rage  and  pain.  The 
blood  flew  from  his  open  mouth  and  nostrils  and 
dripped  from  his  dangling  tongue  at  every  breath. 
His  great  eyes  rolled  with  agony  and  fury.  All 
this,  added  to  his  enormous  lion-like  front,  made  a 
most  terrifying  spectacle. 

But,  fortunately,  Rex  had  eyes  only  for  the  In- 
dian. He  saw  the  buffalo  and  noted  the  horrors 
of  his  appearance,  but  indistinctly.  His  every 
nerve  was  strained  to  guide  his  horse  so  as  to  meet 
the  Indian  at  exactly  the  right  moment  in  exactly 
the  right  way.  Failure  to  do  this  might  mean 
death  to  both. 

On  sped  the  horse  and  on  came  the  Indian  and 
the  buffalo. 

The  bull  was  not  ten  feet  behind,  when  Rex, 
slacking  his  speed  just  a  little,  dashed  in  front  of 


82  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

the  Indian  and  reached  downward  as  he  passed  to 
grip  him  by  the  hand  and  to  help  swing  him  up  on 
the  back  of  his  horse.  The  Indian  understood  his 
object;  and,  with  a  mighty  bound,  just  as  Rex  was 
passing,  caught  his  hand,  gripped  the  back  of  the 
saddle,  and  swung  himself  up  behind  on  the  back  of 
the  horse — and  the  next  instant  horse  and  riders 
felt  as  if  an  earthquake  had  struck  them,  as  they 
were  lifted  upward  and  hurled  through  the  air. 

Rex  struck  the  ground  a  rod  away  from  where 
he  started,  but  the  soft  grass  broke  his  fall  and  he 
leaped  to  his  feet  unhurt.     The  Indian  was  al- 
ready on  his  feet,  his  knife,  the  only  weapon  he 
had  with  him,  in  his  hand.     The  horse  was  strug- 
gling on  the  grass  in  the  agonies  of  death,  the  head 
of  the  great  bull,  the  horns  and  mane  covered  with 
blood,  swaying  above  him ;  and,  even  as  the  horrified 
boy  looked,  the  monster  staggered,  swayed  from  side 
to  side  for  an  instant,  and  fell  dead  by  the  side  of  the 
dead  horse. 

At  last  the  Indian's  arrow  had  done  its  fatal 
work. 

For  a  minute  Rex  and  the  Indian  stood  motion- 
less, staring  at  the  dead  buffalo  and  the  dead  horse. 
Then  the  Indian  slipped  his  knife  back  into  its  sheath 
and  turned  and  walked  slowly  toward  Rex. 

He  was  unusually  tall,  splendidly  proportioned 
and  young,  only  a  few  years  older  than  was  Rex 
himself.  In  his  wild  race  for  life  he  had  thrown 
away  every  article  of  clothing,  except  his  deerskin 


The  Great  Buffalo  Hunt  83 

leggings  and  his  beaded  moccasins.  These  were 
new  and  richly  ornamented.  Three  eagle  feathers 
were  firmly  fastened  in  his  black  hair;  and  around 
the  wrist  of  his  right  arm  was  a  broad  band  of 
silver.  An  ornamented  belt  around  his  waist  sup- 
ported his  leggings  and  held  his  sheathed  knife. 

With  a  slow  stately  step,  every  motion  showing 
the  lithe  gracefulness  of  his  muscular  body  and 
limbs,  the  young  Indian  approached  Rex.  When 
within  four  or  five  feet  of  the  white  boy,  he  stopped, 
his  countenance  grave,  but  his  dark  eyes  glowing 
with  the  warmth  of  his  feelings.  His  lips  parted  to 
speak ;  but,  before  a  sound  could  come  from  between 
them,  over  the  rise  of  ground  from  behind  which  the 
Indian  and  the  buffalo  had  come,  with  a  great  clatter 
of  hoofs,  dashed  a  dozen  Indian  warriors,  their 
plumes  and  blankets  streaming  out  behind  them, 
their  spear  heads  glistening  in  the  bright  sunlight, 
their  weapons  ready  in  their  hands.  Without 
slackening  the  speed  of  their  ponies  in  the  least  they 
rushed,  like  a  whirlwind,  straight  to  where  Rex  and 
the  young  Indian  stood;  and,  in  an  instant,  had 
formed  a  circle  around  the  boy  and  the  Indian, 
bringing  their  ponies  to  a  halt  with  a  suddenness 
that  almost  threw  them  back  upon  their  haunches. 
And  there  they  sat,  like  bronze  equestrian  statues, 
their  weapons  ready  in  their  hands,  their  eyes  glit- 
tering with  vindictive  hatred,  fixed  on  Rex. 

Rex  was  frightened,  terribly  frightened,  by  this 
sudden  coming  of  the  armed  Indian  warriors;  for 


84  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

even  his  untrained  eyes  had  sufficient  skill  in  the 
customs  of  the  Indians  to  tell  him  that  he  was  sur- 
rounded by  the  dreaded  Blackfeet,  the  implacable 
foes  of  the  white  trapper.  He  knew  that  capture 
by  these  Indians  meant  torture  and  death,  unless 
rescued. 

The  young  Indian — he  was  a  chief,  that  was  ap- 
parent from  his  actions  and  the  eagle  feathers  in 
his  hair — raised  the  palm  of  his  right  hand  and  held 
it  protectingly  over  Rex. 

"Let  my  white  brother  have  no  fear,"  he  said  in 
a  low  musical  voice.  "White  Otter's  shield  is  be- 
fore him."  Then  he  turned  to  the  circling  warriors, 
and,  raising  his  voice,  addressed  them  in  his  native 
language. 

Rex  knew  from  his  gestures  and  actions,  he  fre- 
quently pointed  to  where  the  dead  horse  and  the 
dead  buffalo  bull  lay,  that  he  was  telling  them  the 
story  of  his  rescue ;  and,  to  his  intense  satisfaction, 
at  his  words,  he  saw  the  fierce  light  fade  from  the 
eyes  of  the  surrounding  Indians  and  the  foreboding 
gloom  of  their  sullen  faces  lighten.  For,  perhaps, 
five  minutes  the  young  chief  spoke,  then  he  stepped 
back  a  couple  of  paces  from  Rex,  held  up  his  right 
arm,  and,  at  a  gesture,  the  warriors,  one  by  one, 
rode  slowly  between  him  and  Rex  each  pausing  an 
instant  to  look  closely  on  the  broad  band  of  silver 
encircling  the  upraised  arm  and  to  scrutinize 
sharply  the  face  of  the  white  boy  as  he  passed. 
When  the  last  warrior  had  thus  passed,  they 


The  Great  Buffalo  Hunt  85 

gathered  together  in  a  compact  band,  struck  their 
horses  with  their  whips,  and  galloped  off  over  the 
brow  of  the  ridge  whence  they  had  come,  leaving 
Rex  again  alone  with  the  young  chief. 

White  Otter  lowered  his  arm,  slipped  the  broad 
band  of  silver  off  over  his  hand,  and,  again  coming 
close  to  Rex,  gently  took  his  right  hand  and  pushed 
the  silver  band  over  it  onto  his  wrist. 

"Let  my  white  brother  listen/'  he  said,  still  hold- 
ing the  right  hand  of  Rex  in  his.  "Your  race  and 
my  race  are  enemies.  The  hatchet  can  never  be 
buried  long  between  them.  The  Great  Spirit  gave 
the  Indian  this  country.  He  gave  him  the  buffalo, 
the  deer,  the  broad  plains  and  the  high  mountains. 
His  camp-fires  have  burned  here  for  many  genera- 
tions. The  graves  of  his  ancestors  are  here.  It  is 
his  home.  The  paleface  come  and  kill  our  buffalo 
and  deer.  They  trap  our  beaver.  They  roam  over 
our  plains  and  through  our  mountains,  driving  the 
deer  and  the  buffalos  from  our  hunting-grounds. 
They  do  not  come  at  our  invitation.  We  do  not 
want  them;  but,  when  we  tell  them  to  go,  they 
refuse.  When  we  attempt  to  make  them  go,  they 
fight.  We  are  not  children.  We  are  warriors 
and  men.  We  love  our  country;  and,  like  men  and 
warriors,  we  will  fight  for  our  country.  No,  be- 
tween the  whiteman  and  the  Indian  there  can  be  no 
peace,  so  long  as  the  whiteman  comes  into  our  coun- 
try and  refuses  to  go  when  the  Indian  tells  him  to  go. 
But  you  have  saved  the  life  of  White  Otter.  White 


86          With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

Otter  will  not  war  with  you.  You  are  his  brother. 
See,  he  has  placed  his  medicine  band  upon  your 
arm,"  and  the  chief's  eyes  rested  on  the  band  of 
silver  he  had  placed  around  the  wrist  of  Rex.  "It 
is  good  medicine.  It  will  protect  you  in  battle. 
The  arrows  and  the  bullets  of  your  enemies  will  pass 
you  by.  It  will  tell  the  friends  of  White  Otter  that 
you  are  his  brother,  and  keep  their  knives  and  ar- 
rows from  doing  you  harm.  Always  wear  it.  It 
is  the  gift  of  White  Otter  to  his  white  brother. 
Now  we  must  part,  or  the  white  hunters  will  find 
White  Otter  and  slay  him.  Yonder  is  the  camp  of 
my  brother,"  and  the  young  chief  pointed  in  the 
direction  opposite  to  that  in  which  the  Indian  war- 
riors had  disappeared.  "White  Otter's  memory  is 
as  long  as  his  life.  He  will  never  forget  the  wild 
bull  and  the  swift  horse  and  his  white  brother  who 
saved  his  life,"  and,  without  waiting  for  a  word  in 
reply  from  Rex,  he  dropped  his  hand  and  walked 
swiftly  away;  and,  in  a  couple  of  minutes,  had 
passed  from  sight  over  the  ridge  of  ground. 

Rex,  during  all  these  exciting  and  dramatic  mo- 
ments, had  stood  motionless  and  silent — what  could 
he  do  or  say? — and  not  until  the  young  chief  had 
passed  from  sight  did  he  really  awake  from  his 
trancelike  condition  of  mind  and  body.  Then  the 
first  thing  he  did  was  to  hurry  to  his  horse.  The 
gallant  little  animal  was  dead;  and  by  his  side  lay 
the  dead  buffalo  bull.  Rex  stood  up  and  looked 
hastily  around,  hoping  to  see  some  of  his  friends. 


The  Great  Buffalo  Hunt  87 

He  found  himself  standing  in  a  little  cup-like  valley, 
perhaps  a  mile  across ;  and,  so  far  as  he  could  see,  he 
was  the  only  living  thing  in  it.  He  listened.  He 
could  not  hear  a  sound  of  the  hunt.  In  the  excite- 
ment of  the  chase  he  had  evidently  wandered  far 
from  the  hunters  and  the  herd  of  buffalos.  Now 
he  must  get  back  to  his  friends  as  soon  as  possible. 

With  a  sad  heart  he  turned  to  his  dead  horse,  for 
he  had  come  to  think  a  great  deal  of  the  sturdy  little 
pony  that  had  carried  him  for  so  many  weary  miles, 
and  with  swift  hands  took  the  bridle  and  the  saddle 
from  the  body.  Then  he  slung  the  saddle  and  bridle 
over  his  shoulder  and  started  for  camp,  his  mind 
full  of  the  strange  adventure  he  had  just  expe- 
rienced. He  did  not  have  the  least  idea  himself 
where  the  camp  was;  but  followed  the  direction 
pointed  out  by  the  young  Indian  chief ;  and,  at  the 
end  of  an  hour's  walk,  came  to  the  top  of  a  ridge 
from  which,  to  his  inexpressible  delight,  he  could 
see  the  little  grove  of  cottonwoods  along  the  river 
bank  and  the  white  tents  of  the  camp. 

Dill,  when  that  furious  dash  after  the  buffalos 
began,  was  greatly  excited.  What  boy  would  not 
have  been  ?  But,  by  the  time  his  pony  had  brought 
him  through  the  cloud  of  dust  that  followed  close 
after  the  fleeing  herd,  he  had  his  nerves  under  pretty 
good  control.  When  he  broke  into  the  herd,  he 
found  that  his  trained  pony  had  already  selected  a 
young  cow,  and,  wiser  or  not  as  venturesome  as 
Rex,  he  was  satisfied.  The  cow  did  not  prove  to  be 


88          With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

very  speedy,  and  in  less  than  ten  minutes  his  horse 
had  brought  him  alongside  of  her. 

Dill  drew  one  of  his  pistols  from  its  holster;  and, 
just  at  the  moment  the  motion  of  the  cow's  leg  ex- 
posed the  bare  spot  of  skin  just  back  of  the  shoulder, 
he  took  quick  aim  and  fired.  But,  in  the  excitement 
of  the  moment,  he  missed  the  fatal  spot  and  broke 
the  cow's  leg,  and  it  took  all  of  his  four  bullets  to 
kill  her. 

Now  Dill's  excitement  broke  loose;  and  he 
shouted  and  yelled  and  swung  his  hat.  Then  he 
leaped  off  his  horse,  and  having  tied  him  to  the  dead 
buffalo's  horns,  examined  his  prize.  She  was  fat 
and  young. 

"Just  right  for  killing,"  soliloquized  the  proud  and 
happy  boy.  "I  wonder  if  Rex  has  done  as  well/' 
and  he  straightened  up  and  looked  around.  A  hun- 
dred rods  to  his  right  Hammer  Jones  was  just  tying 
his  horse  to  the  horns  of  a  dead  cow.  A  little 
farther  on  Captain  Tom  was  racing  alongside  of  a 
buffalo;  and,  even  as  Dill  looked,  he  saw  him  raise 
his  arm  and  the  smoke  leap  from  the  muzzle  of  his 
pistol  and  the  cow  tumble  to  the  ground.  But  no 
where  could  he  see  a  sign  of  Rex.  He  ran  and 
jumped  on  the  back  of  his  horse,  so  as  to  widen  his 
range  of  vision.  Still  no  where  could  he  see  Rex. 
He  was  about  to  gallop  to  a  near-by  ridge,  to  see  if 
he  could  discover  Rex  from  its  summit,  when  he 
saw  the  negro  boy,  Pom,  hurrying  toward  him  on 
the  back  of  his  old  yellow  mule,  Brimstone;  and 


The  Great  Buffalo  Hunt  89 

the  scene  that  now  followed  soon  drove  all  thought 
of  Rex  out  of  his  head  for  the  time  being. 

Pom  was  lashing  Brimstone  with  his  whip  and 
yelling  at  him  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  Evidently 
at  the  critical  moment  Pom's  courage  had  failed 
him;  and  now,  when  he  knew  that  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  overtake  the  herd,  he  wanted  to  appear 
to  be  most  anxious  to  do  so.  Suddenly  up  from  the 
grass  directly  in  front  of  Brimstone,  jumped  a 
young  buffalo  calf.  Pom  saw  him.  Here  was  his 
opportunity  to  distinguish  himself,  and  to  capture 
his  buffalo  alive.  With  a  yell  and  a  jerk  he  brought 
Brimstone  to  a  halt,  slipped  off  his  back  and  quickly 
tied  him  to  a  small  bush. 

The  calf  had  run  only  a  few  rods,  and  now  stood 
looking  curiously  at  Pom  and  Brimstone. 

The  negro  boy  had  heard  the  trappers  say,  that, 
if  you  would  hold  your  hands  over  the  eyes  of  a 
buffalo  calf  and  breathe  a  few  strong  breaths  into 
his  nostrils,  the  little  animal  would  follow  you  any- 
where; and  at  this  important  moment  Pom  re- 
membered this  bit  of  wisdom,  and  determined  to  act 
on  it.  But  first  he  must  catch  the  calf.  However, 
Pom  had  caught  many  common  calves,  big  ones,  and 
he  did  not  fancy  that  this  little  buffalo  calf  would 
give  him  much  trouble,  so  he  started  valiantly  to- 
ward him. 

"So-bossy!  So-bossy!"  Pom  called  soothingly, 
as  he  advanced,  having  laid  down  his  gun  to  show 
his  peaceable  intentions. 


go  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

The  calf  stretched  out  his  nose  toward  him, 
sniffed  the  air  and  stood  still. 

"So-bossy!  Come  bossy!  Dis  niggah  ain't 
gwine  to  hurt  yo',"  he  continued  to  call,  as  he  slowly 
drew  nearer  to  the  calf.  "So-bossy!  Come  bossy! 
Come  to  yo'  HI  honey  boy !" 

And  the  calf  came — on  the  jump,  his  head 
lowered. 

"Golly !"  and  Pom  turned  and  started  on  the  run 
for  Brimstone;  but,  before  he  had  taken  two  steps, 
the  head  of  the  calf  landed,  and  down  he  went 
sprawling  on  his  fat  belly. 

Pom  yelled  and  attempted  to  scramble  to  his  feet; 
but,  just  as  he  got  in  the  best  position,  the  calf  landed 
again,  and  again  Pom  went  down.  This  time  his 
yell  was  louder.  For  a  minute  Pom  lay  still,  then 
he  cautiously  began  to  rise,  and  had  just  got  onto 
his  feet  when  the  calf's  head  struck  and  toppled  him 
over  once  more.  Pom  now  lay  still  and  yelled  for 
help.  The  buffalo  calf  stood  about  a  rod  from 
where  he  lay,  just  far  enough  to  give  him  a  good 
start,  and  watched  him  closely.  He  was  not  going 
to  let  that  big  black  round  thing  that  yelled  so  curi- 
ously get  away  from  him. 

During  these  little  preliminaries  Dill  had  galloped 
up  to  within  a  few  rods  of  where  this  unique  contest 
was  taking  place,  and  now  sat  on  his  horse  watch- 
ing Pom  and  the  buffalo  calf  and  laughing  so  that 
he  could  scarcely  keep  his  seat  in  his  saddle.  Ham- 
mer Jones  and  a  couple  of  the  other  trappers  had 


The  Great  Buffalo  Hunt  91 

also  joined  the  audience,  while  Captain  Tom  was 
hurrying  thither  as  fast  as  his  horse  could  take  him. 
So  Pom  was  not  to  lack  witnesses  in  his  efforts  to 
distinguish  himself. 

For  two  minutes  Pom  did  not  move  a  muscle,  ex- 
cept the  muscles  of  his  tongue  and  lungs,  then  he 
began  very  cautiously  to  raise  his  head.  He  caught 
sight  of  Hammer  Jones. 

"Shoot  de  debbel!  Shoot  de  little  hunchback 
debbel!"  he  yelled.  "Shoot  him,  fo'  he  done  br'ak 
ebbery  bone  in  mah  skeleton." 

"Shucks,  Pom,"  laughed  Ham,  "you  don't  want 
to  shoot  that  pretty  leetle  feller.  Jest  catch  him  an' 
breathe  in  his  nostrils,  an'  he'll  foller  you  like  a  leetle 
lamb." 

"Breve  in  his  nostrils!  Breve  in  dat  little 
debble's  nostrils !  Fo'  de  lub  ob  hebben,  shoot  him 
Massah  Ham— O-O— Ouch !" 

In  the  eagerness  of  his  appeal  Pom  had  half  risen 
to  his  feet.  That  was  all  the  buffalo  calf  needed, 
and,  with  a  thud  that  sounded  like  a  football  hitting 
the  side  of  a  barn,  the  hairy  head  struck  and  Pom 
was  sent  sprawling  on  the  grass,  with  all  the  breath 
knocked  out  of  his  body  for  the  moment. 

"Grab  him  'round  th'  neck,  when  he  bunts !"  yelled 
one  of  the  delighted  trappers. 

"Catch  him  by  th'  hind  leg  an'  throw  him  an'  set 
on  him,"  advised  another. 

"Get  your  gun  and  shoot  him,"  called  Captain 
Tom,  who  had  just  ridden  up. 


92  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

"Massah  Tom !  Massah  Captain  Tom !"  screamed 
the  now  thoroughly  terrified  negro  boy,  lying  flat 
on  his  belly  and  hardly  daring  to  raise  his  head  an 
inch.  "Fo'  de  lub  ob  de  good  Lo'd  kill  dat  little 
black  debble,  fo'  he  done  knocks  mah  spinal  menin- 
getus  t'ro'  mah  essopagus.  I's  most  kilt  now/'  and 
his  voice  ended  in  a  loud  and  prolonged  wail. 

This  was  too  much  for  one  of  the  trappers  and  he 
tumbled  off  his  horse  and  rolled  on  the  grass  and 
yelled  and  guffawed  like  a  lunatic.  Even  Captain 
Tom  had  hard  work  to  keep  in  his  saddle.  Surely 
Pom  was  distinguishing  himself  in  a  most  unusual 
manner. 

All  this  noise  and  motion  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  buffalo  calf,  and,  for  a  moment,  drew  his  eyes 
away  from  his  victim.  He  even  turned  and  trotted 
away  for  a  rod  or  two. 

"Quick!  Now  is  your  chance,"  yelled  Dill. 
"Get  your  gun  and  shoot  him.  He's  running 
away." 

"Hurry!"  shouted  Ham,  "an'  catch  him,  or  he'll 
git  away." 

"You've  got  him  runnin'  now,  nig.  After  him !" 
cried  Captain  Tom. 

Thus  urged,  Pom  cautiously  raised  his  head,  saw 
that  his  enemy  had  moved  off  a  couple  of  rods  or 
more  and  was  standing  with  his  back  toward  him ; 
and,  doubtless  thinking  that  he  was  secure  now,  a 
portion  of  his  courage  came  back,  and,  jumping  to 
his  feet,  he  yelled :  "I's  done  gwine  to  fix  yo'  now, 


The  Great  Buffalo  Hunt  93 

yo'  little  black  debbel,"  and  started  on  the  run  for 
the  spot  where  he  had  laid  his  double-barreled  shot- 
gun. 

But  the  buffalo  calf  was  still  on  his  job;  and, 
whirling  swiftly  about,  he  started  for  Pom,  like  a 
live  battering-ram. 

Pom  saw  him  coming,  and  let  out  a  yell  that 
nearly  split  his  throat,  and  made  his  legs  go,  as  if  he 
surely  thought  the  devil  were  after  him.  He 
reached  the  spot  where  he  had  left  his  gun ;  but,  just 
at  the  critical  instant  when  he  bent  over  to  grab  it 
up  from  the  ground,  the  calf's  head  arrived,  and 
Pom  departed  with  a  suddenness  that  landed  him 
headfirst  on  the  grass  ten  feet  away,  the  gun  tightly 
gripped  in  one  of  his  clenched  hands. 

How  Captain  Tom  and  the  trappers  and  Dill  did 
laugh!  They  knew  that  Pom  was  in  no  real 
danger;  but  the  looks  on  his  fat  face  and  the  antics 
of  his  fat  body,  when  the  calf's  head  struck  him, 
were  so  comical,  that,  even  if  they  had  known  that 
he  was  in  instant  peril  of  his  life  they  could  not  have 
helped  laughing. 

Pom,  however,  did  not  laugh — he  yelled,  with  all 
the  strength  of  his  lungs.  Then  he  felt  the  gun  in 
his  hand,  which  fortunately  had  not  been  damaged 
nor  discharged  by  its  rough  usage,  and  again  some 
of  his  courage  came  back,  and  once  more  he  cau- 
tiously raised  his  head  to  get  a  sight  of  his  enemy. 

The  buffalo  calf  had  backed  off  a  couple  of  rods 
and  again  had  turned  his  head  to  look  curiously  at 


94          With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

the  antics  of  the  wildly  hilarious  trappers,  who  were 
acting  more  like  crazy  men  than  veterans  of  the 
plains. 

Pom  slowly  got  up  on  his  knees,  a  look  of  grim 
determination  on  his  fat  face  and  the  fires  of  a  des- 
perate resolve  in  his  eyes.  He  had  his  beloved  gun 
in  his  hand,  and  now  he  would  kill  the  calf  and  be 
revenged  for  all  the  indignities  the  little  animal  had 
butted  upon  him.  Still  he  would  not  venture  to 
shoot  until  he  could  do  so  from  the  safe  vantage  of 
Brimstone's  back;  and,  suddenly  jumping  to  his 
feet,  he  made  a  rush  for  the  mule.  Fortunately 
Brimstone  was  now  only  about  ten  feet  away,  and 
Pom  reached  his  side  and  scrambled  up  on  his  back 
before  the  calf  could  get  to  him. 

The  moment  Pom  was  in  his  saddle,  all  his  cour- 
age and  assurance  returned,  while  his  wrath  against 
the  buffalo  calf  flamed  into  a  fervent  heat. 

"Yo' — yo'  scan'lous,  no-'count,  low-down,  good- 
f o'-nothin',  hunchbacked  skinful  ob  buttin'  obnickity, 
yo' — yo'll  butt  dis  niggah  all  ober  de  plains,  will  yo'  ? 
Now  I's  gwine  to  fix  yo',  so  yo'  won't  do  no  mo' 
buttin',"  and  Pom  raised  his  shotgun  to  his  shoulder, 
took  aim  at  the  calf  that  now  stood  some  two  rods 
away  eying  him  wonderingly,  and,  in  his  excitement, 
pulled  both  triggers. 

The  two  barrels  of  the  old  gun  went  off  with  a 
tremendous  bang — so  did  Pom,  off  the  back  of  the 
mule,  fortunately  landing  on  his  head,  while  the 
smoking  gun  flew  from  his  outspread  hands  and 


The  Great  Buffalo  Hunt  95 

struck  the  ground  a  half-dozen  yards  or  more  away 
from  Pom's  landing-place. 

The  buffalo  calf,  with  a  frightened  bleat,  whirled 
about,  and,  with  its  little  short  tail  held  stiffly  erect, 
galloped  off  in  the  direction  taken  by  the  herd,  un- 
harmed by  Pom's  gun. 

"Let  him  go,"  laughed  Captain  Tom,  when  one  of 
the  trappers  made  a  motion  to  raise  his  rifle  to  shoot 
the  calf.  "He  deserves  his  freedom  for  the  fun  he 
has  given  us."  And  the  calf  was  allowed  to  gallop 
off  unharmed. 

Pom  lay  on  the  ground  for  a  moment,  then  he 
slowly  got  on  his  feet  and  began  gingerly  feeling 
of  the  different  parts  of  his  body,  as  if  he  expected 
to  find  every  bone  broken,  the  expression  on  his  fat 
black  face  seeming  to  indicate  that  he  really  did  not 
know  yet  whether  he  was  dead  or  alive,  but  was  just 
beginning  to  have  suspicions  that  he  might  still  be 
in  the  land  of  the  living.  Presently  a  look  of  re- 
lief swept  over  his  countenance  and  he  straight- 
ened up. 

"Golly !"  he  cried,  his  delight  shining  all  over  his 
rotund  face.  "Dis  niggah's  bones  sart'nly  am  made 
ob  mighty  good  subsistunces.  I  done  thought  eb- 
bery  one  ob  dem  cracked  fo'  sho'.  Now,"  and  he 
looked  proudly  around,  just  as  Dill  and  his  trapper 
friends  galloped  up,  "whar  am  dat  dead  buffafeller 
calf?" 

"Gone  too  find  his  ma,"  grinned  Hammer  Jones. 
"You  sartainly  did  scare  him,  Pom." 


96  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

"Scare!"  and  Pom's  eyes  widened  until  they 
looked  like  white  marbles.  "I  done  blowed  a  hole 
t'ro'  him  big  'nuf  fo'  Brimstone  to  walk  t'ro'.  I 
done  seed  his  intestimals  flyin'  all  ober  'fo' — 'fo'  I 
got  off  Brimstone." 

"And  they  are  still  flying,"  chuckled  Captain 
Tom.  "There  they  go  over  the  ridge,"  and  he 
pointed  to  where  the  buffalo  calf  was  just  passing 
over  the  top  of  a  ridge. 

For  a  moment  Pom  stared  at  the  running  calf,  as 
if  he  could  not  believe  the  evidence  of  his  own  eyes, 
then  he  glared  at  the  gun  lying  on  the  ground. 

"Den  dat  dar  no-'count  gun  not  kill  dat  dar 
buntin'  buffafeller  calf  aftah  he's  done  butted  dis 
niggah  all  ober  cr'ation?"  he  queried.  "Jes'  wal- 
loped me  off  mah  mule  an'  nebber  done  hurted  dat 
little  black  buntin'  debbel !"  and  a  look  of  unspeak- 
able disgust  swept  swiftly  over  the  black  face.  "I 
nebber  wants  to  see  dat  no-'count  gun  no  mo',"  and, 
leaving  the  gun  where  it  lay,  Pom  hastily  mounted 
Brimstone  and  started  back  for  camp,  not  even 
deigning  to  turn  in  his  saddle  in  answer  to  the  good- 
natured  jeers  and  amusing  suggestions  of  the  trap- 
pers. 

That  night  all  feasted  on  buffalo  steaks,  and  hot 
marrow  fresh  from  the  bones,  and  the  choicest  cuts 
from  the  hump-ribs,  and  the  tongue,  and  the  other 
buffalo  tidbits,  according  to  taste  and  fancy;  and 
never  had  Rex  and  Dill  enjoyed  a  meal  as  they  did 
that  one,  cooked  over  their  own  camp-fires.  Ham 


The  Great  Buffalo  Hunt  97 

showed  them  how  to  split  the  marrow  bones  with  an 
ax,  so  that  one  side  would  come  off  like  the  lid  of 
a  box,  exposing  the  long  white  roll  of  unbroken 
marrow,  steaming  hot  and  more  delicious  to  their 
taste  than  anything  they  had  ever  eaten  before. 

After  all  had  feasted  to  their  stomachs'  content, 
or,  possibly,  discontent,  they  gathered  around  the 
camp-fires ;  and  there,  for  the  first  time,  Rex  related 
at  length  his  adventures  with  the  two  buffalo  bulls 
and  the  Indians  and  showed  the  broad  band  of  silver 
White  Otter  had  placed  around  his  wrist.  There 
were  a  number  of  rudely  engraved  figures  on  the 
bracelet,  evidently  meant  to  represent  an  otter,  an 
eagle  and  a  beaver.  These  looked  as  if  they  had 
been  cut  into  the  silver  with  a  knife,  probably  in  the 
hands  of  its  Indian  owner. 

Rex  had  hardly  finished  his  narrative — the  trap- 
pers were  still  examining  the  bracelet  and  comment- 
ing on  his  adventure,  when  all  were  startled  by  a 
distant  loud  halloo;  and  they  saw,  on  the  top  of  a 
near-by  hill,  standing  out  distinctly  in  the  red  light 
of  early  evening,  an  unarmed  Indian  sitting  statues- 
que on  his  horse  and  holding  aloft  a  piece  of  white 
buckskin  in  token  of  the  peacefulness  of  his  mission. 
By  the  side  of  the  Indian's  horse  stood  another 
horse,  with  a  coat  as  white  as  the  snow  when  it  first 
touches  the  ground  and  a  beautiful  long  mane  and 
tail.  Even  from  where  they  stood  the  boys  could 
see  that  this  was  one  of  the  most  splendidly  formed 
horses  they  had  ever  seen.  The  horse  was 


98  With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

riderless,  but  was  held  by  a  buckskin  rope  in  the 
hands  of  the  Indian  on  horseback. 

Captain  Tom  at  once  laid  down  his  rifle,  walked 
a  couple  of  rods  toward  the  Indian,  and  made  signs 
for  him  to  advance. 

The  Indian  now  rode  slowly  toward  the  camp, 
leading  the  white  horse. 

"Oh,  what  a  beautiful  horse !"  exclaimed  Rex  as 
the  Indian  drew  near.  "I'd  give  'most  anything  to 
own  such  a  horse  as  that.  Just  see  what  a  splendid 
chest  and  neck  and  head  and  limbs  he  has.  I  did 
not  suppose  Indians  ever  owned  such  fine  horses." 

"A  Blackfoot,  as  sure  as  I  am  a  sinner,"  declared 
Ham,  who  stood  by  the  side  of  Rex  and  Dill. 
"What  on  earth  can  he  want  with  us,  unless  it's  our 
scalps !  Say,  but  it's  a  down  right  sin  for  an  Ingine 
tew  have  a  hoss  like  that,"  and  his  admiring  eyes 
rested  on  the  beautiful  white  horse  the  Indian  was 
leading. 

In  the  meantime  the  Indian  had  reached  the  spot 
where  Captain  Tom  stood  awaiting  him.  For  some 
five  minutes  the  two  talked  together,  then  the  Indian 
passed  the  rope  that  held  the  white  horse  to  Captain 
Tom,  sat  up  straight  in  his  saddle  and  for  a  full 
minute  calmly  surveyed  the  staring  trappers,  turned 
his  horse  around  and  rode  slowly  away,  not  deign- 
ing to  give  one  backward  glance. 

"See,"  cried  Dill,  "he  has  left  the  white  horse  with 
Captain  Tom!  I  wonder  if  he  has  bought  him!" 

"I  hope  so,"  Rex  answered ;  "because  then  maybe 


The  Great  Buffalo  Hunt  99 

Captain  Tom  would  let  me  ride  him  sometimes.  It 
must  be  great  to  feel  such  a  horse  under  one." 

Captain  Tom,  with  a  broad  grin  on  his  face  and 
leading  the  white  horse,  approached  the  spot  where 
Rex  and  Dill  stood. 

"From  White  Otter  to  his  white  brother,  who 
saved  him  from  the  horns  of  the  mad  bull,  and  lost 
his  own  horse  in  doing  it,"  he  said,  placing  the  lead- 
rope  of  the  white  horse  into  the  hand  of  Rex. 
"Leastwise  that's  what  I  made  out  of  the  lingo  of 
the  chief.  And  a  right  royal  gift  I  call  it,"  and 
Captain  Tom's  eyes  rested  admiringly  on  the  horse. 

"For  me!"  Rex  cried,  his  astonishment  and  de- 
light almost  overpowering  him.  "This  beautiful 
horse  for  me!"  and,  in  the  exuberance  of  his  joy,  he 
threw  both  arms  around  the  glossy  neck  of  the 
animal. 

The  horse  neighed  softly  and  rubbed  his  nose 
gently  against  Rex,  as  if  he  were  trying  to  make 
him  understand  that  he  was  glad  the  boy  was  to  be 
his  master. 

"Did  the  Indian  tell  you  what  his  name  was?" 
inquired  the  delighted  boy,  his  arms  still  around  the 
white  neck. 

"White  Cloud,  if  I  understood  the  chief  aright," 
replied  Captain  Tom.  "Seems  to  fit  good,  too ;  for  I 
fancy  he'll  look  'bout  like  a  cloud  of  white  soaring 
just  above  the  ground,  when  he's  running.  You 
ain't  wanting  to  sell  the  animal  ?  I — " 

"Sell  him!     Sell  White  Cloud!     No,  sir;  NO," 


ioo        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

and  the  arms  of  Rex  hugged  the  glossy  neck  tighter 
than  ever.  "I — I  would  not  sell  White  Cloud  for 
all  the  money  in  the  world.  Oh,  but  isn't  he  a  little 
beauty!  I  must,  I  must  have  a  little  ride  on  him 
to-night.  Here,  you  hold  him,  Dill,  while  I  get  the 
saddle  and  the  bridle,"  and  the  happy  boy,  handing 
the  rope  to  Dill,  ran  to  where  his  saddle  and  bridle 
lay,  and,  hurrying  back,  soon  had  them  on  the  horse, 
and,  in  another  moment  was  astride  the  beautiful 
animal. 

For  fifteen  minutes  or  more  Rex  galloped  and 
trotted  and  raced  and  ran  White  Cloud,  circling 
about  on  the  little  plain  in  front  of  the  cottonwoods ; 
and,  when  he  trotted  back  into  camp  and  dis- 
mounted, he  was  satisfied  that  there  was  not  another 
as  speedy  nor  as  beautiful  nor  as  easy  a  riding  horse 
in  all  America  as  White  Cloud,  the  gift  of  his  Indian 
brother,  the  young  Blackfoot  chief,  White  Otter. 

That  night  the  camp  was  double-guarded;  for 
now  they  were  in  the  Blackfeet  country,  and  their 
next  encounter  with  these  dreaded  Indians  might 
not  end  as  favorably  as  had  the  adventure  of  Rex. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  STAMPEDE 

OUR  friends  were  now  in  the  country  of  the 
beaver;  but,  before  beginning  trapping  opera- 
tions, it  was  decided  to  spend  three  or  four  days  in 
their  present  camp,  curing  and  drying  the  meat  of 
the  buffalos  they  had  already  killed  and  the  others 
that  they  expected  to  kill.  They  might  not  have 
another  opportunity  to  get  buffalo  meat,  since  the 
buffalo  was  not  apt  to  be  found,  at  least  not  in  great 
numbers,  in  the  mountainous  regions  where  they  ex- 
pected their  trapping  would  take  them ;  and  Captain 
Tom  believed  in  making  hay  while  the  sun  shone. 
Accordingly,  the  next  day,  Captain  Tom,  with 
three  of  the  trappers,  continued  the  buffalo  hunt, 
while  the  others,  under  the  charge  of  Hammer 
Jones,  built  scaffolds,  cut  up  the  meat  of  the  buf- 
falos already  killed  into  narrow  strips  and  hung 
it  on  poles  laid  across  the  scaffolds.  Then  fires 
were  kindled  underneath  the  suspended  meat ;  and 
thus  the  narrow  strips  were  dried  and  smoked  until 
they  were  sufficiently  cured  to  preserve  them  almost 
indefinitely,  and  could  be  packed  on  their  mules  and 
taken  with  them,  to  be  eaten  when  fresh  meat  could 
not  be  obtained. 

101 


iO2      '•'Wir.b''Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

Rex  and  Dill  remained  in  camp  to  help  with  the 
meat  jerking;  and  very  hard  and  hot  and  smoky 
work  they  found  it;  but  the  antics  of  Pom  and  the 
doings  of  the  grizzly  bear  cub,  Buster,  who  had  be- 
come as  tame  as  a  dog  and  a  hundred  times  more 
mischievous,  kept  them  all  good-natured,  and  the 
time  passed  very  rapidly. 

By  the  evening  of  the  third  day  they  had  sufficient 
buffalo  meat  jerked,  and  it  was  decided  to  break 
camp  the  next  morning  and  travel  up  the  Platte  un- 
til they  came  to  the  mouth  of  the  Sweetwater,  which 
Captain  Tom  calculated  was  about  a  two  days' 
journey  from  where  they  were. 

They  had  seen  nothing  more  of  White  Otter  and 
his  band  of  Indians.  Indeed,  Captain  Tom  knew 
Indian  nature  well  enough  to  know  that  they  had 
little  to  fear  from  this  band,  since  the  rescue  of  their 
chief  by  Rex;  but  there  might  be  other  parties  of 
Blackfeet,  who  would  like  nothing  better  than  to 
steal  every  horse  and  mule  they  had,  except  to  get 
the  scalps  of  their  owners,  and,  consequently  the 
trappers  had  not  dared  to  relax  their  vigilance  in  the 
least.  Each  night,  as  soon  as  it  became  dark,  every 
horse  and  mule  was  picketed  within  a  few  feet  of 
where  the  trappers  were  to  sleep  and  then  short- 
hobbled,  so  that  in  case  of  an  attempted  stampede  by 
the  Indians  the  animals  could  not  be  driven  away, 
even  if  they  should  break  loose  from  their  pickets. 
Rex  would  not  run  even  this  slight  risk  with  White 
Cloud,  and  drove  the  picket  that  held  him  inside  the 


The  Stampede  103 

tent,  within  a  foot  of  the  spot  where  his  head  rested 
when  he  slept.  Then  he  tied  the  pommel  of  his 
saddle  by  a  short  deerskin  thong  to  the  picket ;  and, 
as  he  used  his  saddle  for  a  pillow,  the  picket  could 
not  be  pulled  out  of  the  ground  without  disturbing 
his  head  sufficiently  to  awaken  him.  In  addition  to 
these  precautions  four  men  were  always  on  guard 
during  the  dark  hours  of  the  night. 

Of  course  Rex  and  Dill  had  to  do  their  share  of 
this  guard-duty ;  and,  on  this  last  night  in  the  camp 
in  the  cottonwoods,  it  so  happened  that  both  boys 
went  on  duty  for  the  last  three  hours  of  the  watch, 
or  from  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  until  day- 
light— the  most  dangerous  period  of  the  entire 
watch,  for  Indians  will  seldom  make  an  attack  dur- 
ing the  darkness  of  the  night,  but  will  wait  until  the 
early  light  of  morning  begins  to  appear.  Captain 
Tom  and  Hammer  Jones  were  their  comrades  of  the 
guard. 

The  grove  of  cottonwoods  was  small,  only  a  little 
circular  clump  of  trees,  perhaps  five  rods  across, 
growing  on  the  bank  of  the  Platte,  and  surrounded 
on  all  sides  by  an  open  prairie.  The  four  guards 
were  so  placed  around  this  little  grove  that  their  eyes 
could  command  the  entire  surrounding  country,  and 
it  would  take  a  cunning  Indian  indeed  who  could 
creep  up  unseen  by  their  watchful  eyes.  They  did 
not  expose  themselves,  but  each  carefully  concealed 
himself  in  the  dark  shadows  of  a  tree  where  he 
could  watch  without  being  seen. 


IO4         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

"Now,  boys,"  Captain  Tom  said,  when  the  two 
lads  stood  ready  to  go  on  guard,  "be  sure  and  keep 
your  eyes  wide  open  all  the  time.  It's  going  to  be 
right  dark  just  afore  daylight,  and  that's  the  time 
to  look  out  for  the  Blackf  eet.  Don't  hesitate  an  in- 
stant to  shoot  at  anything  that  looks  wrong  coming 
toward  camp.  Ham  and  I  will  take  the  two  ends, 
and  you  boys  can  watch  the  sides.  Come  on,"  and 
they  started  to  the  relief  of  the  old  guard. 

Dill  was  stationed  on  the  river  side  of  the  grove, 
and  Rex  on  the  side  facing  the  plains. 

"Seen  anything  suspicious?"  Captain  Tom  asked 
of  each  guard  as  he  was  relieved. 

"Nothin',"  was  the  answer  of  each,  until  they 
came  to  the  trapper  whose  place  Rex  was  to  take. 

"Thar's  bin  half  a  dozen  coyotes  a-sticken  their 
heads  over  th'  top  of  yonder  ridge,"  this  man  an- 
swered, pointing  to  a  low  ridge  that  showed  dimly 
some  twenty  rods  from  where  they  stood.  "But 
I  reckon  they  's  all  the  real  thing,  leastwise  I  could- 
n't make  nothin'  else  out  of  'em.  Thought  I'd  jest 
mention  it." 

Captain  Tom  stood  for  two  or  three  minutes,  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  ridge.  A  couple  of  coyotes  ap- 
peared on  its  top,  and  one  of  them  squatted  down 
on  his  haunches  and  began  to  howl.  Captain  Tom 
listened  for  a  moment,  and  then  smiled. 

"I'd  take  my  oath  that  that's  the  real  critter,"  he 
said,  as  the  unearthly  gibberish  of  shrill  sounds 
ended  in  a  burst  of  imp-like  laughter.  "Not  even 


The  Stampede  105 

an  Indian  could  make  a  noise  like  that,  only  that 
devil-beast.  But  keep  your  eyes  on  the  ridge,  be- 
cause that's  'bout  the  likeliest  place  from  which  to 
make  a  stampede,"  he  cautioned  Rex,  as  he  departed 
for  his  own  station,  leaving  the  boy  alone. 

Rex  stood  in  the  dark  shadows  of  a  thick-leaved 
cottonwood,  close  to  its  trunk.  He  could  see  the 
surrounding  plain  and  the  top  of  the  ridge  quite 
clearly,  for  the  moon,  now  nearing  the  western  hor- 
izon, still  gave  considerable  light.  But,  in  the 
course  of  an  hour,  the  moon  would  be  gone,  and  then 
there  would  be  only  the  stars  to  lighten  the  scene. 

For  a  long  time  Rex  kept  his  eyes  steadfastly  on 
the  top  of  that  ridge.  If  that  was  where  the  Indians 
were  most  likely  to  come  from,  he  did  not  wish  to 
be  caught  napping.  But  the  hours  passed  and  the 
moon  went  down,  and  still  nothing  suspicious,  not 
even  a  coyote,  had  Rex  seen  or  heard.  Another 
hour  went  by.  It  was  now  so  dark  that  the  boy 
could  see  nothing  distinctly  on  the  ridge  top,  strain 
his  eyes  as  he  might.  Once  or  twice  he  thought  he 
could  distinguish  the  moving  of  a  dark  huddled 
cloud-like  mass  along  the  ridge  summit,  but  the  next 
moment  it  would  melt  into  the  surrounding  dark- 
ness. Once  also  there  came  to  him  a  muffled  sound, 
like  the  very  distant  murmurs  of  the  voices  of  men 
talking,  but,  when  he  listened  intently,  this,  too, 
seemed  to  be  a  thing  of  his  imagination. 

At  last  the  first  light  of  early  morning  began  to 
appear,  and  Rex  breathed  easier.  Now  he  could 


io6         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

even  see  the  shadowy  outlines  of  the  small  trees  that 
stood  on  the  ridge  top — "But,"  and,  at  the  thought, 
Rex  straightened  up  from  the  tree  trunk  against 
which  he  had  been  leaning  with  a  sudden  jerk,  "how 
came  the  trees  there!  There  had  been  none  there 
the  night  before." 

He  rubbed  his  eyes  and  looked.  Yes,  there  cer- 
tainly were  trees  there  now,  standing  a  little  higher 
than  a  man  and  huddled  quite  closely  together.  In 
the  clearer  light  of  the  advancing  morning  he  could 
see  them  quite  distinctly. 

What  could  it  mean  ?     How  came  they  there ! 

How — how  was  that?  Trees  do  not  move — fall 
to  the  ground — gallop  off  on  horseback ! 

"Indians !  Indians !"  and  the  startled  boy  threw 
his  rifle  to  his  shoulder  and  fired  at  the  mass  of 
mounted  warriors  that  now  burst  forth  from  behind 
the  discarded  tree  tops  and  poured  down  the  side  of 
the  ridge,  straight  toward  the  spot  where  he  stood. 

"Indians !  Indians !"  yelled  Captain  Tom  and  Ham 
almost  in  the  same  breath,  firing  their  rifles. 

The  next  instant  it  sounded  as  if  all  the  demons 
of  pandemonium  had  broken  loose,  as,  firing  the  few 
guns  they  had,  yelling  at  the  top  of  their  voices  and 
swinging  their  blankets  around  their  heads,  the  hun- 
dred or  more  Indians  swept,  like  a  hurricane,  down 
on  the  little  grove  of  cottonwoods. 

"The  horses!  Guard  the  horses  and  mules!" 
shouted  Captain  Tom.  "It  is  only  a  stampede,"  and 


The  Stampede  107 

he  ran  to  where  the  animals  were  corralled  in  a  little 
opening  in  the  grove  about  two  rods  from  the  tents. 

Almost  on  the  instant  the  cry  of  "Indians! 
Indians !"  and  the  rifle  shots  rang  out,  every  trapper 
leaped  to  his  feet,  his  rifle  ready  in  his-  hands. 
There  was  no  confusion,  no  panic.  They  knew 
exactly  what  that  cry,  followed  by  the  shots  and  yells 
of  the  savages  and  the  rapid  thuds  of  their  horses' 
hoofs,  meant.  They  had  often  heard  it  before,  and 
each  one  knew  exactly  what  to  do — get  to  the  horses 
and  mules  as  quickly  as  possible,  so  as  to  prevent  any 
of  them  escaping,  and  then  get  in  as  many  shots  as 
they  could  at  the  Indians. 

Rex,  after  he  had  shouted  his  warning  and  fired 
his  gun,  stood,  for  a  moment,  stock-still,  his  eyes 
fixed  on  that  yelling  charging  horde  of  savages,  his 
senses  fascinated  by  the  fearful  sight  and  his  blood 
curdling  with  the  chill  of  those  dreadful  yells ;  then 
the  thought  of  White  Cloud's  peril  came  and  he 
leaped  toward  his  tent.  He  was  just  in  time  to  see 
a  naked  dripping  body  slip  up  out  of  the  water  of  the 
river,  and  leap,  knife  in  hand,  toward  the  spot  where 
White  Cloud  was  plunging  at  the  end  of  his  picket- 
line.  His  own  rifle  was  empty,  and  the  Indian 
would  get  to  White  Cloud  before  he  could  possibly 
get  to  the  Indian.  All  the  trappers  had  rushed  to 
where  the  horses  and  mules  were  picketed ;  and,  in 
the  confusion  and  excitement,  not  one  of  them  saw 
the  peril  of  White  Cloud.  The  Indian  had  only  to 


io8        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

cut  the  hobbles  and  the  picket-line,  spring  on  the 
horse's  back  and  gallop  off,  safe  from  pursuit,  for 
what  horse  could  overtake  White  Cloud? 

In  the  first  glance  Rex  saw  all  this,  and  yelled  at 
the  top  of  his  voice,  and  strained  every  muscle  to 
reach  White  Cloud  in  time  to  save  him  from  the 
Indian ;  but  he  was  too  late.  With  a  yell  of  triumph 
the  Indian  bounded  to  the  side  of  White  Cloud,  with 
one  stroke  his  keen  knife  flashed  through  the  hob- 
bles, and  he  turned  to  cut  the  picket-line,  when  there 
came  a  savage  growl  from  almost  under  his  feet, 
and  the  next  instant  he  felt  the  sharp  teeth  of  some 
animal  buried  in  the  calf  of  his  right  leg. 

The  Indian  yelled  with  pain  and  fright,  glanced 
down,  saw  that  it  was  a  grizzly  bear  that  had  hold  of 
him,  and,  with  another  yell  of  mortal  terror,  tore 
himself  free  from  Buster's  teeth,  plunged  down  the 
bank,  splashed  into  the  river,  and  was  gone.  Doubt- 
less the  grizzly  cub  had  looked  much  larger  to  his 
terrified  eyes  than  he  really  was.  A  moment  later 
Rex's  arms  were  around  the  neck  of  White  Cloud, 
and  with  voice  and  caress  he  was  quieting  the 
frightened  animal. 

During  these  moments  the  trappers  had  been  hav- 
ing an  exciting  time  with  the  horses  and  mules. 
Some  of  the  terrified  animals  had  broken  loose  from 
their  pickets,  but  their  hobbles  prevented  them  from 
escaping;  and  all  were  plunging  and  kicking  and 
struggling  madly  to  be  off,  away  from  those  yelling 
fiends  with  the  great  flapping  wings. 


The  Stampede  109 

Like  a  whirlwind  the  yelling  Indians  charged  to 
within  a  few  rods  of  the  struggling  animals,  then 
turned  and  swept  by;  and,  in  less  time  than  it  has 
taken  to  describe  these  happenings,  they  had  disap- 
peared completely  into  the  gloom  of  the  still  early 
morning. 

The  trappers  had  fired  one  volley,  but  without 
hitting  an  Indian  so  far  as  could  be  seen ;  and  then 
had  been  obliged  to  give  all  their  attention  to  the 
horses  and  mules.  Buster,  apparently,  had  carried 
off  all  the  honors,  he  being  the  only  one  to  draw  the 
enemy's  blood. 

Not  an  animal  had  escaped,  but  one  of  the  mules 
had  broken  his  leg  and  had  to  be  shot  to  put  him 
out  of  his  misery. 

When  Rex  told  his  story  of  how  narrowly  White 
Cloud  had  missed  being  captured,  Captain  Tom 
looked  sober. 

"You'll  have  to  keep  a  mighty  close  eye  on  that 
animal  all  through  the  Indian  country,  my  boy,"  he 
said.  "A  Blackfoot  or  an  Apache  would^go  almost 
to  hell  to  get  a-hold  of  such  a  horse.  Evidently 
this  here  stampede  was  planned  mostly  on  purpose 
to  give  that  Indian  a  chance  to  capture  White 
Cloud.  'Twas  a  mighty  cunning  trick  and  daring 
for  an  Indian.  Bully  for  Buster!  You  can  fill 
his  belly  as  full  of  buffalo  steak  as  it  will  hold  this 
morning.  I  reckon  that's  the  kind  of  appreciation 
that  he'll  appreciate  most." 

There  was  no  more  sleeping  that  morning.     As 


no        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

quickly  as  possible  breakfast  was  eaten — you  may 
be  sure  Buster's  steak  was  not  forgotten — the  mules 
were  packed  and  the  start  for  the  Sweetwater  was 
made.  Captain  Tom,  now  that  he  knew  a  large  band 
of  hostile  Blackfeet  was  near,  did  not  wish  to  linger 
in  that  locality  a  minute  longer  than  was  necessary. 
Three  scouts  were  sent  out  in  advance  of  the  little 
party,  and  every  precaution  taken  to  guard  against 
surprise  or  ambuscade.  Thus  they  journeyed  all 
day  up  the  valley  of  the  North  Platte ;  and  at  night 
camped  on  the  summit  of  a  small  hill  in  the  midst 
of  a  wide  plain,  where  it  would  be  impossible  for 
their  cunning  enemies  to  creep  upon  them  unawares. 

During  the  day  they  had  seen  many  signs,  which, 
to  eyes  as  experienced  as  theirs,  told  that  the  Black- 
feet  were  watching  them  closely.  Sometimes  a 
solitary  Indian  warrior  would  appear  on  a  distant 
hilltop,  sit  for  a  moment  motionless  on  his  horse's 
back,  his  eyes  scanning  the  little  band  of  trappers; 
then  he  would  wheel  his  horse  and  disappear  behind 
the  hill.  '  Again  the  puffs  of  a  distant  signal-smoke 
would  be  seen  rising  upward  through  the  clear  air, 
to  be  answered,  possibly,  a  few  minutes  later  by 
another  similar  column  of  smoke  miles  away. 

However,  the  night  passed  without  any  alarms. 
Doubtless  the  Indians  were  not  in  sufficiently  large 
numbers  to  attack  the  trappers  themselves,  and,  after 
their  experience  of  the  night  before,  they  did  not 
care  to  attempt  another  stampede,  where  there  were 
so  many  watchful  eyes  behind  so  many  long- 


The  Stampede  in 

barreled  rifles,  and  so  were  content  to  watch  them 
from  a  distance  and  to  warn  other  Indians  of  their 
coming. 

The  next  day  they  saw  thousands  of  buffalos, 
sometimes  literally  covering  the  valley  of  the  Platte 
from  ridge  to  ridge;  but  no  one  was  allowed  to  kill 
any.  Captain  Tom  was  too  anxious  to  get  out  of 
the  region  of  the  hostile  Blackfeet  to  delay  the  train 
a  moment  to  kill  buffalo.  They  also  saw  antelope 
and  deer  and  a  couple  of  grizzly  bears;  but  not  a 
gun  was  fired  at  any  of  them.  All  day  they 
marched  as  fast  as  the  pack-mules  could  go, 
stopping  only  a  half  hour  at  noon ;  and  a  little  before 
sundown,  to  the  satisfaction  of  all,  they  reached  the 
mouth  of  the  Sweetwater  and  went  into  camp  for 
the  night. 

Since  early  morning  they  had  not  seen  a  sign  of 
an  Indian,  and  it  was  the  opinion  of  all  that  that 
particular  band  of  Blackfeet  had,  at  last,  given  up 
the  chase;  but  there  might  be  other  bands  near,  so 
that  they  did  not  dare  to  relax  their  vigilance  in 
the  least. 

"Better  tie  them  kinks  of  wool  tew  th'  top  of  yer 
head,"  was  Ham's  parting  advice  to  Pom,  as  the 
negro  boy  prepared  to  roll  himself  up  in  his  blanket 
for  the  night  in  front  of  the  boys'  tent,  "or  one  of 
them  Ingines  will  git  yer  scalp  while  yer  sound 
asleep." 

"Golly,  dat  am  so!"  and  Pom's  face  lengthened 
and  sobered,  then  it  suddenly  brightened,  as  his 


ii2        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

eyes  caught  sight  of  a  round  iron  frying-pan  that 
had  been  hung  up  on  a  tree  to  dry.  "I's  gwine  to 
fix  um,  so  dat  no  scan'lous  red  mans  gits  his 
finggahs  into  dis  niggah's  wool,"  and,  to  the  intense 
amusement  of  all,  the  negro  clapped  the  frying-pan 
over  the  top  of  his  head  and  proceeded  to  tie  it  there 
with  thongs  of  deerskin,  the  handle  projecting  out 
in  front  like  the  beak  of  a  bird ;  and  then,  with  his 
precious  kinks  guarded  by  this  unique  protector,  he 
rolled  himself  up  in  his  blanket,  to  sleep  the  sleep 
of  the  frying-pan-protected. 


CHAPTER  IX 

IN   THE   BEAVER   COUNTRY 

C  ORTUNATELY  Pom  had  no  use  for  his  fry- 
ing-pan protector  that  night,  the  hours  of 
darkness  passing  without  a  suspicious  sound  to 
disturb  the  slumbers  of  our  little  band  of  trappers, 
and  the  morning  dawning  clear  and  cold.  It  was 
now  past  the  middle  of  September,  and  in  that 
altitude  the  nights  were  chilly  with  the  approaching 
winter,  although  the  days  were  still  warmed  with 
the  heat  of  a  hot  sun. 

"Git  ready  for  beavers,  boys,"  was  Ham's  greet- 
ing on  this  morning,  as  Rex  and  Dill  came  out  of 
their  tent  just  as  the  first  rays  of  the  morning's  sun 
shone  down  on  the  little  encampment.  "We're 
goin'  up-stream  a  few  miles  tew  where  Goose  Creek 
comes  in,  an'  ithen  we're  goin'  tew  try  our  luck. 
Twas  a  mighty  good  beaver  country  thereabouts 
th'  last  time  Captain  Tom  was  here,  some  three 
years  ago,  an'  he  reckons  he  knows  where  tew  find 
th'  beaver  now." 

This  was  good  news  to  Rex  and  Dill.  Ever 
since  leaving  Santa  Fe  they  had  been  listening  to 
beaver  stories — marvelous  tales  of  the  habits  and 
the  remarkable  instinct,  intelligence  some  would 


114         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

call  it,  of  these  wonderful  little  animals,  that  played 
such  an  important  part  in  the  finding  of  the  west ; 
and  both  boys  were  eager  to  study  the  beaver  in  his 
own  home  and  to  pit  their  wits  against  his  in  their 
efforts  to  secure  his  valuable  fur. 

Did  you  ever  stop  to  think  how  much  the  West 
owes  to  the  presence  of  the  beaver,  to  the  fact  that 
its  fur  was  sufficiently  valuable  to  lure  men  away 
from  all  the  comforts  of  civilization  into  the  most 
hidden  fastnesses  of  the  then  Great  Unknown 
Wilderness  west  of  the  Missouri?  In  his  search 
for  the  beaver  the  dauntless  trapper  went  every- 
where, where  he  thought  there  was  a  possibility  of 
finding  beavers.  He  traversed  the  great  plains  in 
all  directions  and  explored  all  the  streams  and 
valleys  of  the  mountains.  On  his  return  to  the 
trading-post,  loaded  with  furs,  he  told  of  his  ex- 
periences, described  the  regions  where  he  had  been 
and  compared  data  with  other  trappers.  Thus, 
gradually,  something  of  the  vastness,  the  wonder- 
ful richness,  the  grandeur  of  the  scenery,  the 
mystery  and  romance  of  the  mountains,  the  marvels 
of  this  new  Western  World,  spread  eastward,  in- 
spiring men  like  Pike,  Long  and  Fremont,  to  come 
and  see  for  themselves  and  to  mark  out  for  others 
the  way  to  the  West.  But  these  men  did  not  find 
the  West.  The  trappers  had  already  found  it. 
Guided  by  trappers  they  explored  scientifically  and 
made  known  the  results  of  their  explorations  of  the 
world.  In  the  slow  march  of  civilization  across  the 


In  the  Beaver  Country  115 

continent  westward  from  the  Missouri,  the  trapper 
came  first;  and  he  came  because  of  the  beaver. 
Thus  you  can  see  how  important  was  the  part 
played  by  this  little  animal  in  bringing  the  white 
man  into  the  West;  and  an  unfortunate  part  it 
proved  for  him,  for,  alas!  it  meant  his  practical 
extinction. 

But,  of  course  Rex  and  Dill  and  their  companions 
did  no  philosophizing  of  this  nature.  They  were 
there  for  the  fur  on  the  back  of  the  beaver,  not  to 
philosophize,  and  had  not  the  slightest  idea  of  the 
important  page  they  were  helping  to  write  in  the 
history  of  their  country. 

That  was  a  rush  morning  in  camp.  Everything 
was  done  as  speedily  as  possible;  for  the  trappers 
were  almost  as  eager  as  were  the  boys  themselves 
to  get  their  traps  out  and  set  for  the  wily  little 
animal.  A  half  hour  after  sunrise  found  them 
hurrying  on  their  way  up  the  Sweetwater,  an  hour 
later  they  had  reached  the  mouth  of  Goose  Creek, 
and  in  another  half  hour  they  had  come  to  where 
Goose  Creek  widened  out  into  a  small  pond,  sur- 
rounded by  a  beautiful  little  valley  set  in  the  midst 
of  encircling  mountains. 

"Here  is  where  we  camp/'  Captain  Tom  cried, 
jumping  off  the  back  of  Don  Lucifer.  "We'll  pitch 
our  tents  on  the  top  of  that  little  knoll  by  the  side  of 
the  big  rock,"  and  he  pointed  to  a  huge  rock  a  couple 
of  rods  away  that  jutted  up  out  of  the  level  ground 
of  the  valley  thirty  or  more  feet  into  the  air. 


n6         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

'There's  a  spring  of  the  best  water  I  ever  drank 
at  the  base  of  the  rock;  and,  unless  my  eyesight  is 
failing  me,  we  won't  have  far  to  go  to  find  beaver," 
and  he  glanced  to  where  the  dome-like  tops  of  a 
number  of  beaver  houses  showed  above  the  waters 
of  the  pond. 

In  a  moment  all  hands  were  busy.  The  packs 
were  taken  off  the  backs  of  the  mules,  the  two  tents 
were  pitched,  the  horses  and  mules  were  picketed 
and  hobbled  knee-deep  in  the  rich  grass  of  the 
valley;  and  then  everybody,  except  the  two  men 
who  had  been  stationed  at  suitable  points  to  guard 
the  encampment,  got  out  their  traps  and  began  care- 
fully examining  them  and  everything  needed  in 
trapping  the  beaver. 

Rex  and  Dill  had  brought  five  traps  each  with 
them.  Hammer  Jones  had  promised  to  show  them 
how  to  set  their  traps  and  to  initiate  them  into  all 
the  mysteries  of  beaver  trapping.  Now  they  got 
out  these  traps,  tested  the  strength  of  their  springs 
and  chains,  and  prepared  for  the  first  practical 
lesson  in  trapping.  But,  to  their  great  disappoint- 
ment, Captain  Tom  announced  that  no  traps  would 
be  set  that  day.  He  and  Hammer  Jones  and  three 
others  of  his  most  skilled  men  would  spend  the  day 
exploring  the  surrounding  country,  learning  where 
the  beavers  were,  planning  trapping  routes  and  as- 
suring themselves  that  there  were  no  hostile  Indians 
near.  All  the  others  would  remain  in  camp,  getting 
the  ground  about  the  camp  in  shape  and  putting 


In  the  Beaver  Country  117 

everything  in  readiness  to  begin  the  actual  trapping 
the  next  morning.  / 

When  Captain  Tom  and  his  men  returned  that 
night  there  was  great  rejoicing.  They  had  found 
the  streams  full  of  beavers,  and  had  not  seen  a  re- 
cent sign  of  an  Indian.  In  addition  Captain  Tom 
and  Ham  had  made  a  complete  circuit  of  the  little 
valley  where  their  camp  was  situated,  and  had  found 
it  enclosed  by  walls  of  precipitous  rocks  that  no 
human  being  could  climb.  This  made  the  guarding 
of  the  camp  a  very  simple  proposition ;  for  they  had 
only  to  station  a  man  at  either  end  of  the  valley,  at 
the  entrance  and  the  exit  of  the  stream  of  water 
flowing  through  it,  the  only  places  where  danger 
could  enter,  to  make  it  impossible  for  Indians,  they 
feared  no  other  danger,  to  attack  them  without 
warning.  Captain  Tom  and  Ham  had  also  each 
brought  in  a  deer,  and  so  they  had  an  abundance 
of  fresh  meat  with  which  to  season  their  good  news. 

The  next  morning  Rex  and  Dill  awoke  suddenly 
to  find  themselves  sprawling  one  on  top  of  the  other 
in  the  middle  of  the  tent,  with  the  face  of  Ham 
grinning  above  them,  the  blanket  from  which  he 
had  dumped  a  sleeping  boy  gripped  in  either  hand. 

"Hey,  thar!  Time  everybody  was  up!"  he 
shouted,  throwing  a  blanket  at  the  head  of  each  boy. 

"Sick  him,  Buster !"  yelled  Rex  to  the  grizzly  cub, 
scrambling  to  his  feet  and  hurling  the  blanket  back 
with  such  true  aim  that  it  completely  enveloped 
Ham's  head. 


n8          With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

Buster  growled  and  made  a  rush  for  Ham's  legs, 
arriving  just  in  time  to  trip  that  worthy  up,  as  he 
was  struggling  to  get  the  blanket  off  his  head,  and 
send  him  tumbling  through  the  tent  opening  on  top 
of  Pom,  who  let  out  an  unearthly  howl.  Before 
Ham  could  get  on  his  feet,  Dill  had  the  other  blanket 
around  his  head ;  and  for  a  couple  of  minutes  there 
was  a  merry  mix-up  of  whirling  blankets,  growling 
bear  cub,  yelling  negro  boy,  struggling  man  and 
laughing  boys.  But,  at  the  end  of  that  time,  all 
emerged  safe  and  sound  and  smiling.  Even 
Buster  seemed  to  have  a  grin  on  his  face,  as  he  con- 
tinued good-naturedly  to  worry  one  of  the  blankets. 

A  dash  of  the  cold  water  of  the  creek  over  their 
heads  and  faces  and  Rex  and  Dill  were  ready  for 
the  day's  work. 

The  discipline  in  a  band  of  trappers  was  some- 
times almost  as  strict  as  that  in  a  detachment  of 
soldiers.  Each  man  had  his  appointed  work  to  do. 
All  could  not  trap.  Some  had  to  guard  the  camp 
and  prepare  the  food.  Others  had  to  hunt  for  the 
deer  and  the  buffalos  and  the  other  animals  that 
supplied  them  with  their  fresh  meat.  And  all,  so 
long  as  they  remained  with  the  band,  were  subject 
absolutely  to  the  orders  of  the  leader.  Their  only 
laws  were  the  ones  they  made  themselves ;  and  the 
welfare  of  all  compelled  all  to  see  that  the  individual 
obeyed  those  laws. 

On  this  morning  Captain  Tom  announced  the 
rules  that  would  govern  the  camp  while  they  were 


In  the  Beaver  Country  119 

in  this  beautiful  valley.  Five  men  would  guard  the 
camp,  one  man  would  do  the  hunting  and  the  other 
men  would  attend  to  the  trapping.  Two  of  the 
camp-guards  would  be  stationed  at  the  valley's  en- 
trance and  exit.  The  other  three  would  remain 
near  the  tents,  keeping  watchful  eyes  on  the  horses 
and  mules  and  doing  the  camp  work — cooking  the 
food,  stretching  and  preparing  for  packing  the 
skins  of  the  beavers  and  other  animals  killed  the  day 
before,  etc. 

The  sun  that  morning  looked  down  upon  a  scene 
of  bustling  and  pleasing  animation  in  the  little  valley 
where  our  friends  were  encamped.  Around  the 
camp-fires  in  front  of  the  tents  the  "cooks"  were 
busy  getting  the  breakfast.  A  little  distance  away 
the  men,  who  were  to  do  the  trapping,  were  tying 
their  traps  together,  getting  them  ready  to  swing 
upon  their  shoulders,  filling  their  "medicine" 
pouches,  examining  their  rifles — making  sure  that 
everything  was  just  right.  Still  farther  away  the 
horses  and  mules,  hobbled  but  not  picketed,  were 
contentedly  feeding  on  the  rich  grass  of  the  valley. 
And  around  this  pleasing  scene  spread  the  little 
valley,  with  the  clear  water  flowing  through  it,  and 
around  the  valley  towered  the  eternad  mountains. 

As  soon  as  breakfast  had  been  eaten,  each  trapper 
swung  his  bunch  of  a  dozen  traps  upon  his  shoulder, 
picked  up  his  rifle  and  started  for  the  stream  along 
which  lay  his  appointed  trapping  route. 

Some  of  these  routes  were  miles  in  length,  but, 


I2O         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

where  possible,  were  so  laid  out  that  the  end  of  the 
route  would  leave  the  trapper  near  camp.  The 
traps  once  set  they  were  visited  once  a  day,  the  ani- 
mals caught,  killed  and  skinned  and  the  traps  re-set. 
At  night  the  trappers  all  gathered  at  camp,  where 
the  furs  they  had  taken  during  the  day  were  cleaned 
and  stretched  on  pieces  of  wood.  Then  the  men 
would  light  their  pipes,  and,  reclining  or  sitting  on 
their  blankets  around  the  camp-fire,  would  narrate 
their  day's  experience  and  tell  tales  of  their  adven- 
turous life,  while  they  smoked  for  an  hour  or  more 
before  rolling  themselves  up  in  their  blankets  for  the 
night.  Such  was  the  daily  routine  of  the  life  of 
the  trapper  while  at  work. 

Rex  and  Dill  on  this  day  were  to  have  their  first 
lessons  in  actual  beaver  trapping.  Both  were  to 
accompany  Hammer  Jones  over  his  route,  and 
watch  him  set  and  bait  his  traps,  and  learn  all  they 
could  about  the  habits  of  this  remarkable  animal; 
and  so  eager  were  the  two  boys  to  be  off  that  they 
could  hardly  wait  for  Ham  to  finish  his  breakfast. 
But,  at  last  the  huge  trapper  thrust  his  last  piece 
of  venison  into  his  mouth,  ancj  rose  to  his  feet. 

"Reckon  that'll  do  for  this  feed,"  he  said,  as  he 
stretched  his  huge  frame.  "Now,  yunks,  git  yer 
guns  an'  we'll  be  off,"  and  he  swung  his  bunch  of 
traps  to  his  shoulder,  picked  up  his  rifle  and  turned 
to  the  two  boys. 

In  a  moment  Rex  and  Dill,  their  rifles  in  their 
hands,  were  by  his  side ;  and  Ham  led  the  way  some 


In  the  Beaver  Country  121 

three  miles  up  Goose  Creek  to  where  a  little  stream 
in  another  and  larger  valley  poured  its  waters  into 
Goose  Creek.  Their  trapping  route  lay  along  this 
stream,  which  wound  its  way  for  some  seven  or 
eight  miles  near  the  outer  edge  of  the  valley, 
through  groves  of  trees  dear  to  the  bark-loving 
stomachs  of  the  beaver. 

"This  looks  like  mighty  good  beaver  water  tew 
me,"  Ham  said,  pausing  to  have  a  look  up  the  tree- 
lined  banks,  "an'  thar  is  beaver  up  thar,  sure.  See 
them  twigs,  lookin'  as  if  th'  bark  had  been  peeled 
off  fresh  this  mornin',  a-floatin'  down  th'  stream. 
That's  a  sure  sign  thar's  beaver  up-stream  tew 
work,"  and  Ham  bent  over  and  caught  up  one  of  the 
twigs,  as  it  floated  by.  "Peeled  within  th'  hour," 
he  declared,  after  he  had  examined  the  bit  of  wood 
with  critical  eyes.  "Jest  have  a  look  at  it,"  and  he 
handed  the  twig  to  the  boys.  "That  would  tell  any 
trapper  that  he  was  near  a  beaver  settlement.  You 
see  th'  beaver  lives  mostly  on  th'  tender  bark  of  th' 
limbs  of  trees,  which  they  cut  up  intew  lengths  'bout 
three  feet  long  an'  store  near  their  houses  under 
th'  water  tew  keep  them  fresh;  an'  when  a  beaver 
gits  hungry  he  jest  peels  th'  bark  off  one  of  them 
sticks  an'  eats  it,  an'  then  throws  th'  peeled  stick 
intew  th'  water,  an',  naturally,  it  floats  down 
stream,  a  sign  tew  all  trappers.  Now,  keep  'bout  a 
rod  ahind  me,  an'  move  quiet  as  Ingines,  an'  we'll 
see  if  we  can't  catch  Mr.  Beaver  at  his  work,"  and 
Ham  began  very  slowly  and  very  cautiously  to 


122         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

work  his  way  up  the  stream  through  the  trees  and 
bush. 

Rex  and  Dill  followed  a  dozen  or  so  feet  behind 
Ham,  pausing  whenever  the  trapper  paused  and 
moving  so  quietly  that  not  even  a  beaver's  sharp 
ears  could  have  heard  them  a  couple  of  rods  away. 

For  half  an  hour,  it  seemed  two  hours  to  Rex 
and  Dill,  Ham  moved  stealthily  up-stream.  Then 
the  boys  saw  him  pause  behind  a  thick  clump 
of  water  willows,  and,  cautiously  parting  the 
branches  in  front  of  him,  peer  through.  For  a 
couple  of  minutes  he  looked,  motionless  as  one  of 
the  trees  by  the  side  of  him,  then,  moving  with  the 
utmost  caution  so  as  not  to  make  a  sound,  he  turned 
and  motioned  Rex  and  Dill  to  advance. 

The  boys  were  well-trained  in  woodcraft,  and  so 
carefully  did  they  move  forward  that  they  reached 
the  side  of  Ham  without  the  snap  of  a  twig  or  a 
sound  audible  a  few  feet  away.  Then  the  three 
carefully  parted  the  branches  in  front  of  their  faces 
and  cautiously  peered  through  the  water  willows. 

In  front  of  them,  perhaps  ten  rods  away  and 
clearly  visible  through  an  opening  in  the  trees,  was 
a  beaver  pond,  with  half  a  dozen  lodges  or  beaver 
houses  showing  above  its  waters.  Near  the  middle 
of  the  dam,  which  was  nearly  a  hundred  feet  in 
length,  a  number  of  these  remarkable  little  animal 
architects  were  busily  at  work  repairing  a  break, 
evidently  made  by  a  recent  freshet. 

At  the  moment  two  boys  looked  through  the 


In  the  Beaver  Country  123 

parted  willows,  three  of  the  beavers  were  carrying 
small  bushes  and  sticks  to  the  break  in  the  dam. 
When  they  had  deposited  their  loads  upon  the 
broken  part,  they  paused  for  a  moment  to  look  about 
and  then  dived  into  the  water,  reappearing  again  in 
a  minute  or  two  on  the  surface,  and  gathering  a 
small  quantity  of  mud  in  their  fore  paws  plastered 
the  sticks  and  bushes  they  had  just  deposited  with  it. 
Other  beavers  now  appeared  and  soon  a  dozen  or 
more  of  the  little  animals  were  hurrying  back  and 
forth  with  sticks  and  bushes  for  the  break,  always 
plastering  down  with  mud  the  ones  just  put  in  place 
before  adding  others. 

Evidently  they  believed  that  all  work  and  no  play 
made  Jack  a  dull  boy,  for  frequently  they  would 
pause  for  a  little  frolic  in  the  water,  frisking  and 
dodging  about  on  the  surface  as  they  chased  one 
another  hither  and  thither,  or  diving  to  the  bottom 
with  a  slap  of  their  broad  tails  on  the  water  that 
sounded  like  the  crack  of  a  pistol.  After  indulging 
for  a  few  minutes  in  this  lively  recreation,  all  would 
return  to  their  work  and  the  dam  repairing  would 
go  on  as  before. 

Presently  Rex  and  Dill  saw  two  beavers  swim 
from  one  of  the  lodges  to  the  shore  almost  directly 
in  front  of  where  they  were  concealed  behind  the 
willows.  For  a  minute  or  two  the  newcomers  stood 
on  the  bank  gravely  watching  the  workers.  Then 
they  climbed  a  little  further  up  the  bank  to  where 
a  good-sized  cottonwood  tree  stood,  paused  for  a 


124        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

moment  in  front  of  the  trunk,  as  if  they  were  con- 
sidering how  best  to  begin  the  work,  and  then,  rear- 
ing themselves  up  on  their  hind  quarters  into  a 
sitting  posture,  partly  resting  on  their  broad  tails, 
they  placed  their  fore  paws  against  the  trunk, 
one  on  each  side  of  the  tree,  and  began  cutting  into 
the  wood  with  their  sharp  chisel-like  teeth.  Now 
and  then  one  of  them  would  tear  off  a  small  piece 
of  the  bark,  and,  holding  it  between  his  paws,  feed 
himself,  like  a  squirrel  eating  a  nut.  In  a  sur- 
prisingly short  time  the  two  animals  had  girdled 
the  tree  about  ten  inches  above  the  ground,  and 
were  cutting  deep  into  the  wood,  sometimes  throw- 
ing off  a  chip  three  inches  long  by  one  and  one-half 
wide  and  one-quarter  thick,  when  Rex,  in  an  effort 
to  get  a  better  view  of  the  little  workers,  leaned  too 
far  forward,  lost  his  balance,  and,  in  recovering 
himself,  stepped  on  a  dry  twig  that  snapped  with  a 
loud  crack. 

At  the  sound  every  beaver  in  sight  dived  instantly 
into  the  water,  some  of  them  giving  their  trowel- 
like  tails  a  violent  slap  on  the  surface  as  they  went 
under,  producing  a  noise  not  unlike  the  explosions 
of  a  small  pack  of  firecrackers. 

'Thar,  that's  th'  last  we'll  see  of  them,"  Ham 
said,  pushing  his  way  through  the  willows. 
"They'll  git  intew  their  houses  an'  stay  thar  'til  their 
lookouts  tell  them  that  all  danger  is  passed. 
Beavers  are  a  powerful  knowin'  animal,  with  wits 
'bout  as  sharp  as  their  teeth,  an'  you  seed  how  sharp 


In  the  Beaver  Country  125 

their  teeth  was  when  they  war  a-pickin'  chips  out 
of  that  thar  tree.  'Tain't  every  human  that's  up 
tew  beaver." 

"Do  the  beavers  really  have  lookouts,"  inquired 
Dill,  as  the  two  boys  followed  Ham  through  the 
willows,  "to  warn  them  of  danger  and  to  tell  them 
when  it  is  safe  to  come  out?" 

"Sartain,"  and  Ham  paused  to  give  emphasis  to 
his  words.  "Beaver  are  'most  as  knowin'  as  we 
be.  Now,  jest  take  a  look  at  that  thar  dam,"  and 
he  pointed  to  where  the  beaver  dam  obstructed  the 
flow  of  the  water  and  forced  it  to  back  up  into  a 
pond  of  several  acres  in  extent.  "Who'd  think 
'twas  planned  an'  made  by  a  leetle  four-legged 
animal  not  more'n  twice  as  big  as  a  cat?  Jest  see 
how  th'  knowin'  leetle  fellers  have  taken  advantage 
of  th'  land,  an'  made  it  jest  whar  an  ingineer  would 
have  made  th'  dam,  if  he  wanted  to  back  up  th' 
water  in  that  medder.  Come  on  an'  we'll  have  a 
look  at  it,  afore  we  set  th'  traps,"  and  Ham  led  the 
way  to  the  beaver  dam. 

Rex  and  Dill  were  greatly  interested.  This  was 
the  first  beaver  dam  they  had  ever  examined  at  close 
quarters;  and  they  had  heard  the  trappers  tell  so 
many  stories  of  the  skill  of  these  little  animal 
engineers  and  architects  in  building  their  dams  that 
they  had  long  wished  to  examine  one,  but,  hereto- 
fore, they  had  had  no  opportunity  to  do  so. 

They  found  the  dam  composed  of  a  great  many 
sticks,  some  of  them  the  trunks  of  small  trees,  laid 


126         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

with  their  butts  up-stream.  These  were  weighted 
down  and  their  interstices  filled  in  with  stones  and 
mud,  in  the  laying  and  plastering  of  which  the 
beavers  showed  considerable  masonry  skill.  Some 
of  the  stones  must  have  weighed  six  or  seven 
pounds,  and  many  of  the  sticks  were  so  large  that 
it  seemed  impossible  that  they  could  have  been 
placed  there  by  the  beavers. 

"I  don't  see  how  they  can  carry  such  large  stones 
and  sticks  and  put  them  in  the  right  place,"  Rex  de- 
clared, as  he  stood  on  top  of  the  beaver  dam  and 
looked  down  on  the  marvels  of  its  construction. 
"Why,  some  of  these  sticks  look  as  if  they'd  be  a 
load  for  a  man  to  carry !" 

"An'  so  they  would/'  answered  Ham.  "But  th' 
beavers  manage  tew  drag  them  or  float  them  tew 
th'  right  place  somehow;  an',  as  for  th'  stones, 
I've  seen  th'  critters  walkin'  on  their  hind  legs  like 
human  beings,  a-carryin'  a  stone  as  big  as  their 
head  tucked  up  under  their  chins  an'  held  thar  by 
their  fore  paws,  an'  I've  see  'em  rollin'  an'  a-pushin' 
'em  with  their  front  paws  an'  noses  along  th' 
ground.  But,  I  reckon,  we'd  better  be  a-gittin' 
down  tew  work,  or  we  won't  git  back  tew  camp 
afore  dark.  Now,  you  yunks  keep  'bout  a  couple  of 
rods  from  th'  water,  an'  I'll  see  if  I  can't  set  some 
traps.  You  see  a  beaver's  got  a  powerful  smeller, 
an'  won't  touch  anything  that's  got  a  man-smell 
about  it ;  and  when  you're  settin'  a  trap,  if  you  wants 
tew  catch  one  of  th'  cute  leetle  rascals,  you've  got 


In  the  Beaver  Country  127 

tew  be  powerful  careful  tew  git  rid  of  th'  man- 
smell  afore  you  leave  it." 

The  pond  near  the  shore  was  shallow,  and  Ham 
regardless  of  wet  feet,  now  proceeded  to  wade 
slowly  along  its  margin,  thus  destroying  his  scent, 
keeping  his  eyes  closely  on  the  shore  for  signs  that 
would  tell  him  there  was  the  place  to  set  a  trap. 

At  last  the  two  boys  saw  him  stop  and  bend  over 
and  examine  the  edge  of  the  water  closely.  He 
had  discovered  one  of  the  runways  of  the  beavers. 

"I'll  set  one  right  here,"  he  commented,  as  he 
loosened  one  of  the  traps  from  the  bunch  over  his 
shoulder;  "an',  if  I  don't  miss  my  guess,  thar'll  be 
a  beaver  in  it  afore  mornin',"  and,  setting  the  spring 
of  the  trap,  he  carefully  placed  it  in  the  runway  some 
three  inches  below  the  surface  of  the  water,  con- 
cealing it  as  much  as  possible  in  the  mud.  Then 
he  took  one  of  the  sharpened  stakes  he  had  pre- 
pared himself  with,  placed  it  through  the  ring  of 
the  trap-chain,  and  drove  it  firmly  into  the  ground. 

Now  the  trap  was  ready  for  the  bait,  or  "medi- 
cine," as  the  trappers  called  it.  Ham  carried  his 
"medicine"  in  a  small  pouch  fastened  to  the  belt 
around  his  waist;  and  he  now  took  a  small  portion 
of  it  out  on  the  end  of  his  finger  and  smeared  it  over 
the  peeled  end  of  a  small  stick  about  a  foot  long,  a 
number  of  which  he  had  prepared  and  carried  with 
him.  This  done,  he  pushed  the  stick  into  the 
ground  between  the  jaws  of  the  trap  until  its 
doctored  end  stood  about  four  inches  above  the  pan 


128         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

of  the  trap.  He  also  placed  a  little  of  the  "medi- 
cine" on  anything  near  the  trap  that  he  had  touched, 
to  destroy  the  man-smell. 

The  trap  was  now  set,  and,  with  a  final  look 
around  to  see  that  everything  was  all  right,  Ham 
continued  on  his  way  around  the  pond.  In  this 
manner  he  had  set  five  traps,  when  he  had  com- 
pleted the  circuit  of  the  pond. 

Rex's  and  Dill's  eyes  had  followed  every  motion 
he  had  made  during  the  trap  setting ;  and  now,  when 
he  left  the  water  and  came  up  to  where  they  were 
standing  on  the  bank  awaiting  him,  both  were  ready 
with  questions. 

"What  makes  the  beavers  so  crazy  to  get  at  the 
medicine  that  you  only  have  to  put  a  little  of  it  on 
the  end  of  a  stick  to  draw  them  to  it?"  asked  Rex. 

"What  is  that  wonderful  medicine  made  of  any- 
way?" queried  Dill.  "I  have  heard  so  much  about 
it  since  getting  into  the  beaver  country,  that  I 
should  like  to  know  how  it  is  made." 

"Sartain,  of  course  you'd  like  tew  know  what  th' 
medicine  is,"  and  Ham  grinned.  "But  'tam't 
'lowable  for  me  tew  tell  you,  leastwise  not  until 
you're  regular  trappers.  It's  th'  trapper's  secret. 
But  it  sartain  is  th'  stuff  that  gits  th'  beaver. 
They'll  come  for  it  as  far  as  they  can  smell  it,  an' 
I  reckon  that's  'most  a  mile.  Beavers  have  power- 
ful good  smellers.  An'  when  he  gits  tew  th'  medi- 
cine an'  tries  tew  git  a  taste  of  it,  he  jest  naturally 
puts  one  of  his  feet  intew  th'  trap,  an'  thar  you  have 


In  the  Beaver  Country  129 

him.  I  reckon  th'  medicine  is  something  like  th' 
same  tew  beavers  as  whiskey  is  tew  men,  an'  nigh 
'bout  as  fatal.  But  we  must  be  gittin'  on/'  and, 
picking  up  the  remaining  traps,  which  he  had 
dropped  on  the  ground  by  his  side,  he  started  on  up 
the  stream  to  look  for  more  beaver. 

About  a  mile  farther  up  the  stream  they  came 
to  another  beaver  dam  and  pond,  but  considerable 
smaller  than  the  one  they  had  just  left.  Here  Ham 
set  three  more  traps,  and  continued  on  up  the 
stream. 

They  found  no  more  beaver  dams,  but  discovered 
several  places  where  the  beavers  had  been  at  work 
recently,  and  Ham  set  their  remaining  traps  along 
the  banks  of  the  little  stream  wherever  he  thought 
the  prospect  for  beaver  looked  good.  When  the 
last  trap  was  set,  Ham  straightened  up  and  glanced 
at  the  sun. 

"Great  Ingines,  it  must  be  'most  three  o'clock 
an'  we've  got  'bout  seven  miles  tew  go  tew  camp !  I 
reckon  we'd  better  hit  a  bee-line  for  home,"  and, 
with  a  look  around  to  get  his  bearings,  he  started 
back  for  camp. 

On  reaching  camp  they  found  the  other  trappers 
all  in.  All  reported  having  found  splendid  beaver 
prospects,  and  all  expected  to  reap  a  rich  harvest 
of  pelts  when  they  visited  their  traps  on  the 
morrow. 

Rex  and  Dill  had  had  an  exceedingly  interesting 
day;  and,  when  they  went  to  bed  that  night,  it 


130       With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

seemed  to  the  two  boys  as  if  they  could  hardly  wait 
until  morning  to  visit  the  traps  and  discover  what 
Ham's  luck  had  been.  Tired  as  they  were,  they 
lay  for  some  time  talking  over  the  doings  of  the 
day;  but  at  last  sleep  stopped  their  tongues  and 
dosed  their  eyes,  and  they  slept,  as  only  those  who 
have  lived  the  life  they  were  living  can  sleep. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   MOUNTAIN   LION 

EARLY  the  next  morning,  just  as  the  East  began 
to  lighten  with  the  approaching  day,  Rex  and 
Dill  stole  quietly  from  their  tent  and  silently  crept 
up  to  where  the  great  length  of  Hammer  Jones  lay 
stretched  out  in  his  blanket  on  his  bed  of  pine 
boughs  underneath  a  tree.  To  their  delight  he  was 
sleeping  soundly  and  snoring  loudly;  for  they  were 
about  to  give  him  a  dose  of  the  same  morning 
medicine  that  he  had  so  often  given  them,  and  sleep 
was  a  necessary  preparative  for  the  taking  of  that 
kind  of  medicine.  With  broadly  grinning  faces, 
each  lad  now  caught  hold  of  a  corner  on  the  same 
side  of  his  blanket  and  stiffened  the  muscles  of  his 
back  and  arms  for  the  great  pull. 

"Ready,"  whispered  Rex,  glancing  at  Dill. 

Dill  glanced  back  at  Rex  and  winked  his  right 
eye. 

"Now,  PULL!"  yelled  Rex. 

Both  boys,  at  exactly  the  same  moment,  gave  a 
violent  upward  jerk  to  the  blanket,  with  results,  as 
unexpected,  but  much  more  welcomed,  to  the  boys 
than  they  were  to  Ham. 

The  big  trapper  had  chosen  for  his  bed  a  spot  of 


132         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

ground  about  a  rod  from  the  brink  of  the  water 
and  only  some  four  feet  from  where  the  bank  sloped 
down  abruptly  to  the  pond;  and  the  violence  of  the 
pull  of  the  two  boys  had  sent  him  whirling  down 
this  declivity  and  into  the  cold  water,  which  he 
struck  with  a  yell  that  made  every  trapper  in  the 
company  jump  to  his  feet,  rifle  in  hand. 

One  glance  at  the  body  whirling  down  the  bank, 
and  Rex  and  Dill  fled  to  their  tent,  whence  they 
emerged  a  moment  later  to  join  the  joyous  crowd 
of  trappers  standing  at  the  top  of  the  bank  guying 
Ham,  who,  dripping  water  from  head  to  toe,  stood 
staring  blankly  up  at  them. 

"Ben  takin'  yer  mornin'  bath  ?"  queried  one  of  the 
delighted  trappers. 

"How's  th'  water?  War-r-r-rm?"  asked  an- 
other. 

"Dreamin5  you  was  a  beaver?"  laughed  a  third. 

At  this  moment  Ham's  eyes  caught  sight  of  the 
faces  of  the  two  boys ;  and,  apparently,  that  moment 
solved  the  problem  for  him  of  how  he  came  to  drop 
from  Dreamland  into  that  pond  of  cold  water,  and 
a  broad  grin  wrinkled  his  face. 

"You  smart  yunks  jest  wait!"  and  he  shook  his 
fist  at  Rex  and  Dill.  "This  ain't  a  circumstance 
tew  what  I'll  do  tew  you  some  fine  mornin',"  and> 
shaking  the  water  from  him  like  a  great  dog,  he 
strode  up  the  bank  to  the  camp-fire,  to  dry  his 
clothes  and  warm  his  shivering  body. 

As  soon  as  breakfast  was  eaten,  all  who  had  set 


The  Mountain  Lion  133 

traps  the  day  before  started  out  to  examine  them; 
and  Rex  and  Dill  again  accompanied  Ham,  who, 
unlike  most  practical  jokers,  had  not  been  made  in 
the  least  ugly  by  having  the  joke  played  on  him. 

As  they  drew  near  to  the  first  beaver  pond,  where 
Ham  had  set  five  traps,  the  boys  found  it  difficult 
to  restrain  their  desire  to  rush  on  ahead,  so  anxious 
were  they  to  discover  what  had  happened  to  the 
traps  during  the  night. 

"Now,  jest  hold  yer  sperits,"  Ham  cautioned,  as 
the  two  boys  kept  crowding  ahead.  "Beavers  ain't 
caught  by  th'  length  of  yer  legs ;  an',  when  we  gits 
tew  th'  pond,  don't  go  rushin'  down  tew  th'  water, 
a-scatterin'  th'  man-smell  all  round  th'  trap." 

As  he  spoke  they  came  within  sight  of  the  pond. 
"Now,  don't  you  dare  come  within  a  dozen  yards 
of  this  trap,  till  I  tell  you  tew,  or  I'll  duck  you,  sure 
as  my  name  is  Hammer  Jones,"  and  Ham,  bidding 
the  boys  remain  on  the  bank  a  couple  of  rods  away, 
hurried  to  where  he  had  set  th'  first  trap,  entering 
the  water  when  a  couple  of  rods  away  and  wading  to 
the  trap. 

"He's  got  one !  Hurrah,  he's  got  one !"  shouted 
Dill  excitedly,  as  Ham  bent  over  the  quiet  water, 
caught  hold  of  the  chain  and,  pulling  it  out  of  the 
water,  exposed  the  limp  form  of  a  beaver,  hanging 
by'one  of  his  fore  paws  to  the  trap. 

"Sartain  I've  got  one,  an'  he's  a  whopper!"  and 
Ham  held  the  dead  beaver  up  triumphantly. 
"Drowned  himself  tew,  tew  save  me  th'  trouble  of 


134        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

killin'  him.  Now,  jest  stay  where  you  be,"  he 
cautioned  the  excited  boys.  "I'll  be  with  you  in 
'bout  three  jiffies,"  and,  taking  the  beaver  from  the 
trap,  he  dropped  the  carcass  into  the  water  by  his 
side,  carefully  reset  the  trap  and  placed  it  again  in 
position  under  the  water,  smeared  a  little  more  of 
the  "medicine"  on  the  point  of  the  stick  projecting 
above  the  jaws  of  the  trap,  and,  picking  up  the  dead 
beaver,  waded  a  rod  or  more  from  the  trap,  and 
then,  climbing  the  bank  to  where  Rex  and  Dill 
stood,  threw  the  beaver  down  at  their  feet. 

"My,  but  he  is  a  big  one !"  exclaimed  Rex,  as  he 
and  Dill  eagerly  bent  over  to  examine  the  body. 

"  'Bout  th'  biggest  I've  ever  trapped,"  Ham  de- 
clared, taking  a  critical  look  at  the  sleek  wet  body. 
"I  reckon  he'll  weigh  a  good  forty  pounds.  Maybe 
fifty,"  he  added,  as  he  bent  and  hefted  the  body  with 
his  hand. 

This  was  the  first  beaver  that  Rex  and  Dill  had 
ever  had  an  opportunity  to  examine  closely  and 
they  scrutinized  its  body  with  curious  interest. 

The  color  was  a  rich  chestnut  brown,  showing 
darker  than  it  really  was  on  account  of  being  wet. 
The  fur  was  one-half  to  three-quarters  of  an  inch 
long,  with  coarse  hairs  about  an  inch  longer 
scattered  through  it.  The  paws  were  armed  with 
long  strong  claws,  the  hind  pair  being  webbed  and 
having  an  extra  claw  not  found  on  the  feet  of  other 
animals.  The  front  pair  were  small,  and  shaped 


The  Mountain  Lion  135 

very  much  like  human  hands.  The  curious  trowel- 
like  tail  was  some  eleven  inches  long  by  six  inches 
wide,  flat  and  scaly  and  smooth  and  hard,  without 
a  sign  of  the  rich  fur  that  covered  the  rest  of  the 
body.  The  long  front  teeth  looked  very  much  like 
short  ivory  chisels,  and  their  edges  were  almost  as 
keen  as  the  edge  of  a  sharpened  knife.  The  ears 
were  short,  being  but  little  longer  than  the  fur,  and 
the  eyes  were  small  and  set  well-forward  in  the 
head. 

Such  was  the  appearance  of  this  remarkable  little 
animal,  whose  rich  fur  was  the  lure  that  drew  thou- 
sands of  fearless  men,  when  the  West  was  in  the 
making,  to  brave  the  perils  and  the  hardships  of 
the  then  unknown  wilderness,  and  thus  blaze  the 
trails  for  the  westward  march  of  civilization. 

"Now,  if  you'll  jest  step  one  side,  I'll  git  th'  skin 
off,"  and  Ham  drew  his  knife  from  its  sheath. 
"We've  got  tew  hustle,  or  we  can't  git  tew  all  th' 
traps  an'  back  tew  camp  afore  dark.  Trappin' 
beaver's  work  th'  same  as  choppin'  wood." 

In  a  surprisingly  short  time,  Ham's  swift  and 
skillful  hands  had  the  fur  off  the  back  of  the  beaver ; 
and,  giving  the  skin  to  one  of  the  boys  to  carry,  he 
proceeded  to  examine  and  reset  or  re-place,  when 
necessary,  the  other  traps  he  had  left  at  this  pond. 

In  the  five  traps  he  found  three  beavers,  a  most 
excellent  showing.  One  of  the  traps  had  been 
sprung.  Ham  declared  that  some  trap-wise  old 


136        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

beaver  had  done  this  by  grasping  a  stick  in  his  fore 
paws  and  thrusting  it  between  the  jaws  of  the  trap 
until  it  hit  the  trigger. 

"No  use  a-tryin'  tew  catch  him/'  he  affirmed. 
"He's  up  tew  trap,  an'  would  spring  traps  as  fast 
as  a  feller  could  set  them.  We'll  jest  leave  him 
alone  an'  make  a  try  somewhar  else,"  and  Ham 
pulled  up  the  stake  and  reset  the  trap  in  another 
part  of  the  pond. 

That  night,  when  they  returned  to  camp,  they 
bore  with  them  the  skins  of  eight  beavers ;  and,  as 
nearly  every  trapper  had  been  equally  successful, 
there  was  great  rejoicing  around  the  camp-fire, 
when  all  had  gathered  there  to  relate  the  day's  ex- 
periences. 

The  next  morning  Captain  Tom  assigned  a 
trapping  route  to  Rex  and  Dill,  Ham  gave  them 
a  quantity  of  the  "medicine,"  and,  just  as  the  sun's 
first  rays  shone  down  into  the  little  valley,  they 
shouldered  their  traps  and  started  out,  about  the 
proudest  and  happiest  two  boys  in  that  western 
continent.  At  last  they  were  real  trappers ! 

The  two  lads,  for  companionship  sake  and  safety, 
were  to  trap  together.  Their  route  began  a  couple 
of  miles  from  the  camp,  and  ran  up  one  small 
stream,  that  wound  its  way  for  some  three  miles 
through  the  same  valley  where  they  had  trapped 
with  Ham,  to  its  source  in  a  spring  at  the  base  of  the 
almost  precipitous  side  of  a  mountain.  Thence 
they  were  to  cross  over  a  low  rocky  ridge  to  where 


The  Mountain  Lion  137 

another  small  stream  began,  and  follow  it  down  to 
Goose  Creek,  into  which  it  emptied  some  three 
miles  above  the  camp.  There  were  two  or  three 
small  beaver  ponds  along  this  route,  and  an  abun- 
dance of  fresh  beaver  signs  told  them  that  the 
beavers  were  at  home.  Consequently  both  boys 
were  filled  with  high  hopes  as  to  what  the  results 
of  their  first  day's  trapping  might  be. 

"Now,"  Rex  cautioned,  as  the  two  made  their 
way  up  the  little  stream,  "we  must  be  very  careful 
not  to  leave  our  scent,  or  man-smell,  as  Ham  calls 
it,  near  the  trap.  That  seems  to  be  the  great  thing 
in  trapping  beaver.  And  I  think  we  had  better 
arrange  the  trap  setting  this  way,  so  that  each  can 
tell  how  many  beavers  his  traps  catch.  You  set 
the  first  trap  all  by  yourself,  and  I'll  set  the  next 
trap  all  by  myself,  and  thus  we'll  take  turns  until 
each  has  set  all  his  traps.  Don't  you  think  that 
will  be  the  fairest  way?" 

"Yes,"  Dill  agreed.  "Only  I  think  you  ought  to 
set  the  first  trap,  because  you  are  the  older.  O,  I 
do  hope  that  each  one  of  us  catches  a  beaver  in 
every  one  of  his  traps  to-night.  We'd  have  the 
laugh  on  Ham  and  the  rest  then.  Not  one  of  them 
ever  did  that.  I  heard  them  talking  about  it  last 
night,  and  the  nearest  any  one  of  them  ever  came  to 
doing  it  was  to  catch  nine  beaver  with  ten  traps  in 
one  night;  and  they  all  thought  that  was  great. 
Now,  if  we  should  catch  ten  beaver  in  our  ten  traps 
the  very  first  night  we  ever  set  them,  wouldn't  it 


138         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

make  them  old  trappers  open  their  eyes.  And  we 
might  happen  to  do  it,"  he  added  hopefully.  "Any- 
way, let's  be  just  as  careful  as  we  possibly  can  be 
about  setting  the  traps — There,  see  there !"  and  he 
pointed  excitedly  through  an  opening  in  the  water 
willows  that  here  lined  both  banks  of  the  little 
stream,  "There's  a  beaver  dam  and  pond !  You  set 
the  first  trap,  Rex." 

"All  right,"  Rex  answered  in  a  stage  whisper. 
"Now  keep  just  as  quiet  as  you  can;  and  I'll  do  just 
as  Ham  did  and  wade  along  in  the  edge  of  the  pond 
until  I  come  to  a  good  place  to  set  a  trap.  Then  I'll 
set  the  trap,  wade  a  rod  or  two  from  it,  come  out 
of  the  water,  and  you  can  enter  and  wade  along 
until  you  have  found  a  good  place  to  set  your  trap; 
and  in  this  way  we'll  go  all  around  the  pond." 

Accordingly  Dill  walked  along  the  bank  of  the 
pond  a  couple  of  rods  from  the  water,  while  Rex 
entered  the  pond  and  began  wading  along  the  edge, 
keeping  a  sharp  lookout  for  beaver  signs  that  would 
tell  him  where  to  set  the  trap.  In  this  manner  the 
boys  walked  around  the  pond,  each  setting  his  share 
of  the  traps,  and  passed  on  up  the  stream.  When 
they  came  to  the  spring,  they  had  only  two  traps 
left.  They  stopped  here  to  eat  their  lunch,  a  few 
chunks  of  dried  buffalo  meat,  and  then  went  on 
over  the  ridge  to  the  other  stream.  A  mile  or  more 
down  this  stream  they  came  upon  another  beaver 
pond,  and  here  they  set  the  two  remaining  traps. 

"It  can't  be  more  than  three  o'clock,"  Rex  said, 


The  Mountain  Lion  139 

when  the  two  boys  stood  together  again  after  the 
last  trap  had  been  set.  "Let's  have  a  look  up  that 
gully  before  we  start  back  for  camp/'  and  he  pointed 
to  where  a  rocky  narrow  ravine  split  the  side  of  the 
mountain  half  a  mile  from  where  they  were  stand- 
ing. "I  thought  I  saw  a  couple  of  mountain  sheep 
among  the  rocks  there  a  little  while  ago ;  and  we've 
never  even  had  a  shot  at  a  mountain  sheep  yet.  I 
am  sure  Captain  Tom  won't  care,  because  there's 
no  danger  from  Indians.  Shall  we?" 

"All  right,"  Dill  answered  promptly.  "If  we 
can't  get  a  sheep,  we  might  get  a  deer ;  and  I  fancy 
we'd  be  all  the  more  welcome  at  camp,  if  we  brought 
in  a  deer  on  our  backs — See,  see  there,  about  half- 
way up  the  side  of  the  gully !  There  is  a  mountain 
sheep,  as  sure  as  I  am  alive !  Come  on !"  and  both 
boys  started  on  the  run  for  the  gully. 

"I  wish  we  could  kill  a  mountain  sheep,"  Rex 
panted,  as  the  two  boys  ran  side  by  side.  "Ham 
says  the  meat  is  even  better  than  venison,  and  tastes 
almost  like  mutton,  only  with  an  added  wild  flavor 
that  makes  it  all  the  sweeter." 

"Maybe  we  can,"  Dill  answered  hopefully.  "I 
heard  some  of  the  trappers  wishing  the  hunter 
would  get  some  sheep  meat,  so  I  am  sure  it  would 
be  welcomed  at  camp." 

The  gully  at  its  bottom  was  not  over  a  couple  of 
rods  wide  and  covered  with  huge  rocks,  which  were 
thickly  studded  with  tall  pine  trees,  whose  branches 
afforded  the  boys  concealment  as  they  cautiously 


140        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

worked  their  way  up  the  ravine  toward  the  spot 
where  they  had  seen  the  mountain  sheep. 

"I  am  sure  the  sheep  were  almost  right  over  our 
heads,"  Rex  declared,  pausing  in  a  little  clump  of 
pines  and  looking  upward,  "so  I  think  it  time  for  us 
to  begin  to  climb  the  side  of  the  gully." 

Now,  very  cautiously,  the  two  boys  began  to  work 
their  way  up  the  rocky  and  almost  precipitous  side 
of  the  ravine,  pausing  every  few  moments  to  look 
carefully  for  the  mountain  sheep.  Suddenly,  just 
as  Rex  was  about  to  peer  over  the  top  of  a  great 
rock  shoulder  high,  Dill  caught  him  excitedly  by 
the  arm  and  pulled  him  back. 

"There  they  are!"  he  whispered,  pointing  back- 
ward and  upward  to  where  a  huge  flat-topped  rock 
projected  itself  out  from  the  side  of  the  gully  a 
hundred  yards  away. 

Rex  turned  and  looked  and  saw,  standing  out 
clearly  on  the  flat  top  of  the  rock,  a  couple  of  moun- 
tain sheep,  a  large  buck  and  a  ewe.  Both  stood 
broadside  to  the  boys,  one  a  little  behind  the  other, 
presenting  splendid  marks ;  and  had  the  appearance 
of  philosophically  contemplating  the  beautiful  sur- 
rounding scenery.  The  sheep  had  not  seen  the 
boys,  all  but  their  heads  being  hidden  by  a  rock  that 
rose  between  them  and  the  sheep. 

"You  saw  them  first,"  whispered  Rex.  "Which 
will  you  take?" 

"The  big  buck  is  mine,"  answered  Dill,  his  voice 


The  Mountain  Lion  141 

trembling  just  a  little  with  excitement,  as  he  slowly 
brought  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder. 

"All  right.  Til  count  three.  At  the  'three/ 
fire,"  and  Rex's  eye  glanced  along  his  rifle  barrel 
to  a  spot  just  back  of  the  ewe's  fore  shoulder. 

"One,"  began  Rex— "two three!" 

At  the  word  both  boys  fired. 

The  buck  bounded  convulsively  up  into  the  air, 
off  the  rock,  and  came  tumbling  down  the  side  of 
the  gully.  The  ewe  whirled  about  on  her  four  feet, 
as  if  she  had  been  a  top,  started  to  run,  blind  with 
pain  and  fright,  and  went  over  the  cliff  after  the 
buck,  both  crashing  through  the  trees  to  the  bottom 
of  the  gully. 

"Hurrah,  we've  got  them  both !"  yelled  Dill,  start- 
ing on  the  run  down  the  gully  toward  the  spot  where 
the  sheep  had  fallen,  with  Rex  not  four  feet  behind 
him. 

The  way  thither  was  rough  with  rocks  and  some- 
times almost  impassible  with  trees  and  bushes,  and, 
hurry  as  they  might,  it  was  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
before  they  approached  the  place  where  the  bodies 
of  the  sheep  lay.  They  had  fallen  in  a  thick  clump 
of  bushes  and  it  was  not  until  the  two  boys  were 
within  a  dozen  feet  of  the  carcass  that  Dill's  eyes 
caught  sight  of  the  body  of  the  buck. 

"There  he  is !"  he  cried.  "My,  what  a  splendid 
head  of—" 

The  words  stopped  in  Dill's  mouth,  for,  at  that 


142       With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

moment,  a  snarling  growl  caused  both  boys  to  turn 
their  eyes  a  little  to  the  right;  and  there,  not  five 
yards  away,  they  saw  crouching  over  the  dead  body 
of  the  ewe,  a  monster  mountain  lion.  His  eyes 
flamed  with  yellow  lights,  his  fangs  were  red  with 
the  blood  of  the  sheep,  along  his  back  the  hair  stood 
up  straight,  and  his  tail  twitched  and  pounded  the 
ground  nervously.  He  looked  like  a  great  angry 
cat  about  to  spring  upon  his  prey. 

At  the  instant  the  boys'  eyes  saw  the  angry  beast 
he  was  crouching  to  spring  upon  them ;  and,  with  a 
chill  at  their  hearts  that  no  danger  had  ever  brought 
there  before,  at  the  same  moment  they  realized  that 
both  their  rifles  were  empty.  They  had  not  stopped 
to  load  them  after  shooting  the  mountain  sheep! 

Something  in  their  eyes,  both  boys  stood  as  if 
they  had  been  turned  suddenly  into  stone  their  eyes 
staring  straight  into  the  eyes  of  the  lion,  caused  the 
brute  to  hesitate,  to  glare  back  at  them  without 
springing.  And  thus  the  beast  and  the  boys  stood, 
glaring  into  each  other's  eyes.  The  boys  did  not 
dare  move  a  muscle,  not  even  to  reach  for  their 
knives.  They  knew  that  at  the  first  sign  of  a 
movement  on  their  part,  the  lion  would  hurl  himself 
upon  them. 

But,  how  long  could  their  nerves  and  muscles 
stand  the  strain  of  the  tension?  How  long  before 
the  lion  would  spring? 

For  a  couple  of  minutes — to  the  two  boys  it 
seemed  a  couple  of  hours — they  stood  thus,  the  lion 


The  Mountain  Lion  143 

and  the  lads;  and  then,  from  behind  a  rock,  half  a 
dozen  rods  up  the  gully's  side,  came  the  crack  of  a 
rifle. 

The  lion  whirled  half-way  round,  and  then,  bit- 
ing and  clawing  at  his  side,  rolled  over  and  over  on 
the  ground  in  the  agonies  of  death. 

"I  reckon  you  lads  will  know  enough  tew  load 
your  guns  next  time  afore  you  go  racing  lu- 
naticy-like  through  these  here  mountains,"  and  Rad 
Dawson,  the  camp  hunter,  stepped  out  from  behind 
the  rock  and  began  loading  his  rifle.  "I  was  after 
that  thar  bighorn  an'  his  mate,  an'  was  just  a-goin' 
tew  shoot,  when  bang  went  your  guns.  Wai,  you 
got  them;  but  that  mountain  cat  came  mighty  nigh 
a-gettin'  you.  Never  go  a  rod  in  these  here  moun- 
tains with  an  empty  gun  in  your  hands,"  and,  with 
this  wholesome  advice,  he  rammed  powder  and  ball 
down  the  long  barrel  of  his  rifle;  poured  a  little 
powder  into  the  priming  pan  and  walked  to  where 
the  mountain  lion  lay. 

Rex  and  Dill,  at  the  sudden  sound  of  that  rifle 
shot,  had  both  jumped,  as  if  the  ball  had  struck 
them,  so  great  was  the  rebound  of  their  tight-drawn 
nerves  and  muscles;  and  then  all  the  strength 
seemed  to  leave  their  bodies  for  a  moment  and  they 
were  so  weak  they  could  barely  stand.  But,  by  the 
time  Rad  Dawson  had  reloaded  his  rifle,  they  had 
their  strength  and  courage  back  again ;  and  the  first 
thing  both  lads  did,  before  they  moved  a  step  from 
where  they  stood,  was  to  see  that  their  own  rifles 


144         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

were  properly  loaded.  They  had  learnt  the  lesson 
of  the  mountains:  never  to  go  a  rod  with  an  un- 
loaded gun  in  their  hands. 

Rad  Dawson  declared  the  buck  killed  by  Dill  the 
largest  he  had  ever  seen,  with  "th'  biggest  pair  of 
horns  on  his  head  that  he  had  ever  heerd  tell  of." 

And,  indeed,  the  head  was  a  magnificent  one,  the 
horns  measuring  three  feet  and  two  inches  in  length, 
with  a  circumference  of  eighteen  inches  at  the  base. 

"I'm  going  to  take  that  head  home  with  me  to 
show  dad,  and  to  keep  as  a  memento  of  this — this 
experience,"  and  Dill  cast  a  shuddering  glance  to 
where  the  dead  mountain  lion  lay. 

"What  do  you  suppose  he  has  such  big  horns 
for?"  Rex  asked,  as  he  lifted  the  heavy  head. 
"Why,  they  must  weigh  fifteen  pounds !" 

"They're  tew  pertect  his  head,"  Rad  answered. 
"When  scart  or  chased  by  wolves,  he'll  jump 
right  off  a  precipice,  an'  land  on  them  big  horns  on 
th'  rocks  maybe  thirty  or  forty  feet  below,  an'  never 
crack  a  bone  or  draw  a  drop  of  blood.  That  beast's 
made  a-purpose  for  these  here  mountains,"  and 
the  hunter's  eyes  rested  admiringly  on  the  sturdy 
deer-like  body  and  great  horns  of  the  dead  buck. 
"Now  we  must  git  tew  work,  if  we're  tew  git  back 
tew  camp  afore  dark.  I  reckon  that  big  cat's  hide'll 
feel  mighty  comfortable  this  winter,  leastwise 
I'm  goin'  tew  take  off  his  skin,"  and,  drawing  his 
hunting-knife,  he  began  skinning  the  dead  lion, 
while  Rex  and  Dill  cleaned  the  two  sheep. 


The  Mountain  Lion  145 

The  ewe  had  been  so  badly  torn  by  the  mountain 
lion  that  only  the  saddles  were  taken  from  her  body ; 
but  Rad  bore  the  carcass  of  the  buck  in  triumph  on 
his  back  to  the  camp,  while  Rex  with  the  saddles 
of  the  ewe  and  Dill  with  the  skin  of  the  mountain 
lion,  followed,  the  hearts  of  both  boys  glowing  with 
thoughts  of  the  day's  exploits. 

Captain  Tom  gave  the  two  lads  a  severe  lecture 
for  leaving  their  trapping  route;  and  forbade  them 
in  the  future  while  trapping  to  even  fire  off  their 
guns,  except  in  self-defense. 

"O,  I  do  hope  we  will  find  a  beaver  in  every  one 
of  our  traps  to-morrow,"  Dill  said  that  night,  as 
he  pulled  the  blanket  up  close  around  his  neck.  "It 
don't  seem  as  if  I  could  wait  until  morning." 

"Go  to  sleep,"  retorted  Rex,  "and  you  won't  have 
to  do  any  waiting.  That's  where  I'm  going,"  and 
he  rolled  over  and  closed  his  eyes ;  and  in  five  min- 
utes both  tired  boys  were  sound  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XI 

TRAPPED 

THE  next  morning  Rex  and  Dill  were  so  anxious 
to  be  off  to  examine  the  traps  they  had  set  the 
day  before  that  they  could  hardly  wait  for  break- 
fast; and  the  moment  it  was  eaten  they  picked  up 
their  rifles  and  hurried  away. 

"Now  remember  what  I  told  you  about  leaving 
your  trapping  route  or  firing  off  your  guns,"  Cap- 
tain Tom  cautioned,  as  the  two  boys  departed. 

"I'll  bet  a  dozen  beaver  skins  agin  a  coonskin, 
that  you  don't  find  half  a  dozen  beavers  in  your 
traps,"  called  one  of  the  trappers  derisively. 

"I'll  take  you,"  promptly  answered  Dill. 

"Suppose  you  expect  to  find  a  beaver  in  every 
trap,"  laughed  another. 

"Yes,"  Rex  laughed  back.  "The  beavers  will  let 
us  catch  them  just  to  spite  you  old  trappers.  So- 
long!"  and  they  hurried  on  their  way,  giving  no 
more  attention  to  the  calls  of  their  friends. 

"Isn't  this  an  interesting  life?"  Dill  said,  his  dark 
eyes  and  cheeks  glowing  with  healthful  animation, 
as  the  two  boys  hurried  up  the  stream  toward  the 
first  beaver  pond  where  they  had  set  traps.  "I 
don't  wonder  dad  is  always  longing  to  get  back  to 

146 


Trapped  147 

the  plains  and  the  mountains.  It  makes  a  fellow 
feel  so  strong  and  well  all  through  himself,  just  as 
if  his  blood  were  some  kind  of  an  exhilarating  wine. 
And  then  there  is  such  a  lot  of  grand  and  beautiful 
things  to  see,  like  great  mountains,  standing  up  as 
if  God  had  placed  them  there  just  to  show  man  what 
a  little  fellow  he  was,  and  little  valleys  with  streams 
of  water  running  through  them,  and  rivers  tumb- 
ling over  rocks  and  falling  down  the  sides  of  moun- 
tains. I  never  really  knew  how  great  God  is  until 
I  saw  the  mountains.  I  don't  believe  I  can  ever  be 
satisfied  to  live  in  a  crowded  city  again." 

"Neither  can  I,"  affirmed  Rex.  "And  if  it 
wasn't  for  getting  those  papers  and  taking  them 
back  to  Uncle  Noel,  I  don't  believe  I'd  go  back  to 
New  Orleans  at  all,  at  least  not  for  a  long  time ;  but 
would  stay  here  and  hunt  and  trap.  It  is  more 
like  living.  I  wish  I  knew  what  those  papers  were 
about  and  why  Uncle  Noel  is  so  anxious  to  get  them. 
They  must  be  something  very,  very  important  to 
send  us  all  these  miles." 

"Maybe,  when  we  find  Kit  Carson,  he  can  tell  us 
something  about  them,"  Dill  suggested.  "I  know 
Kit  Carson  was  with  Uncle  Manuel  when  he  left 
the  papers  at  the  mission;  and  possibly  he  knows 
what  they  are  about.  I  wish  we  could  find  Kit 
Carson  before  winter  and  not  have  to  wait  until  the 
rendezvous  next  summer.  But,"  and  his  eyes 
roamed  over  the  surrounding  wilderness  of  moun- 
tains and  valleys,  "  'twould  be  like  looking  for  a 


148         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

needle  in  a  straw  pile  to  try  to  find  him  in  these 
mountains,  unless  one  knew  in  what  particular  part 
to  look,  so  I  reckon  Captain  Young  and  Captain 
Tom  are  right,  and  we've  just  got  to  wait  until  the 
rendezvous.  Now  we  must  be  almost  to  the  beaver 
pond  and  had  better  keep  as  quiet  as  possible." 

For  a  few  minutes  the  boys  walked  on  in  cautious 
silence;  and  then  they  came  to  the  little  opening 
where  the  beavers  had  made  the  dam,  and  Rex,  with 
his  heart  thumping  with  excitement,  advanced  to 
examine  the  first  trap  he  had  set,  while  Dill  stood 
on  the  bank  anxiously  watching  him. 

The  moment  Rex  stepped  into  the  pond  a  couple 
of  rods  from  where  he  had  set  the  trap,  there  was  a 
splash,  and  he  saw  something  struggling  in  the 
water  near  the  trap-stake. 

"You've  got  one!  You've  got  one!  Hurry!" 
cried  Dill,  excitedly  running  along  the  bank  of  the 
pond  until  opposite  the  spot  where  a  beaver  was 
vainly  trying  to  break  away  from  the  first  trap  Rex 
had  set.  "Hurrah,  you've  caught  one  in  the  very 
first  trap  that  you  set !  Now,  if  I  only  have  as  good 
luck !"  and  his  eyes  turned  eagerly  in  the  direction  of 
the  spot  where  he  had  set  his  first  trap. 

Rex  knocked  the  beaver  in  the  head  with  a  small 
hatchet  that  he  carried  in  his  belt,  released  it  from 
the  trap,  and  carefully  reset  the  trap,  just  as  he  had 
seen  Ham  do  when  he  had  been  with  him.  Then 
he  picked  up  the  body  of  the  dead  beaver,  waded 
a  little  ways  from  the  trap,  and,  with  his  first  beaver 


Trapped  149 

gripped  in  his  hand,  proudly  climbed  the  bank  to 
where  Dill  stood. 

"Isn't  he  a  beauty?"  Dill  cried,  his  eyes  sparkling 
with  excitement,  as  Rex  dropped  the  beaver  at  his 
feet.  "Now,  while  you're  getting  the  skin  off  him, 
I'll  see  if  I've  got  one  in  my  trap,"  and  the  excited 
boy,  unable  longer  to  curb  his  impatience,  hurried 
off  to  see  if  he  had  a  beaver  in  his  trap. 

As  Dill  approached  the  place  where  he  had  set 
his  trap  there  was  no  splash  of  water  to  signal  suc- 
cess to  him.  Around  the  trap-stake  the  water  lay 
quiet  and  undisturbed,  and  the  boy's  hopes  sank. 
He  bent  over  the  trap;  and  then,  with  a  yell  that 
must  have  made  every  beaver  in  the  pond  shiver 
with  fright,  he  straightened  up. 

"I've  got  one!  I've  got  one,  too,  Rex!"  he 
shouted,  dancing  up  and  down  in  the  water  in  his 
excitement.  "He  has  drowned  himself." 

"Bully  for  you!"  Rex  called  back.  "But,  if  you 
don't  stop  yelling,  you'll  scare  all  the  beaver  in  the 
pond  to  death.  Set  your  trap  again,  and  bring  him 
here,  and  we'll  see  which  is  the  biggest." 

In  five  minutes  more  the  two  beavers  lay  side 
by  side,  with  the  two  happy  boys  bending  over 
them. 

"Mine  is  a  good  two  inches  longer  than  yours," 
Rex  declared  triumphantly,  when  each  beaver  had 
been  stretched  to  his  utmost  length. 

"But,  mine  has  a  bigger  tail  than  yours,"  Dill 
affirmed. 


150        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

"What's  the  tail  good  for  ?  It  hasn't  any  fur  on 
it." 

"It's  good  to  eat.  Makes  the  best  soup  in  the 
world;  and  I'm  going  to  eat  all  of  mine  myself.  O, 
if  we  only  have  caught  beavers  in  all  the  other 
traps!  Let's  hurry  and  get  these  skinned  so  that 
we  can  see,"  and  Dill  unsheathed  his  hunting-knife 
and  at  once  began  taking  the  fur  off  his  beaver. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  boys  had  the  skins  off,  and 
were  on  their  way  to  examine  the  other  traps.  To 
their  inexpressible  delight,  every  trap  set  in  the  pond 
had  a  beaver  in  it ;  and  when  they  reached  the  spring 
at  the  head  of  the  stream  they  had  eight  beaver 
skins  with  them,  and  they  had  examined  only  eight 
traps ! 

"Well,  the  dozen  beaver  skins  that  Bill  bet  me  are 
mine  anyway,"  Dill  declared  joyously,  as  the  two 
boys  threw  themselves  down  on  the  grass  by  the 
side  of  the  spring.  "Now,  if  the  other  two  traps 
only  have  beaver  in  them,  won't  we  make  those  old 
trappers  look  cheap?  Ten  beavers  in  ten  traps! 
And  the  very  first  traps  we  ever  set !  Come  on.  I 
can't  wait.  Let's  not  eat  our  lunch  until  we've  ex- 
amined the  rest  of  the  traps,"  and  Dill  jumped  to 
his  feet. 

Rex  was  as  anxious  as  was  Dill  to  see  what  had 
happened  to  the  other  two  traps;  and,  so  without 
stopping  to  eat  their  lunch,  although  it  was  past  the 
noon  hour,  the  two  boys  set  out  for  the  other  stream 


Trapped  151 

of  water,  where  they  had  set  the  last  two  traps  the 
day  before. 

Rex  had  set  his  trap  in  the  edge  of  the  pond,  near 
where  he  had  discovered  a  beaver  hole  in  the  side  of 
the  bank  and  a  number  of  fresh  tracks  that  told  him 
the  beavers  were  at  home.  The  boys  approached 
this  place  with  rapidly  beating  hearts.  If  there 
were  a  beaver  in  this  trap,  then  their  first  day's 
catch  would  equal  the  best  ever  made  by  any  of  the 
old  and  experienced  trappers  in  their  party ;  and  that 
would  be  a  great  honor  for  the  two  inexperienced 
city  boys! 

In  their  eagerness  both  boys,  forgetful  of  all  cau- 
tion, crept  down  the  bank,  and  Rex  bent  over  and 
looked  down  into  the  water  where  he  had  set  the 
trap.  At  first  he  could  see  nothing  but  the  clear 
flowing  water. 

"Have  you  got  him?  Have  you  got  him?"  Dill 
whispered  excitedly. 

"N-o-o — Yes!  Hurrah!"  and  the  excited  boy 
plunged  into  the  water  caught  hold  of  the  chain, 
and,  pulling  the  trap  up  in  view,  brought  out  with 
it  the  limp  form  of  a  drowned  beaver. 

For  a  few  minutes  the  two  boys  danced  around 
the  body  of  the  dead  beaver,  as  if  they  had  been 
suddenly  bereft  of  their  senses,  laughing  and  shout- 
ing in  the  exuberance  of  their  joy.  Dill  was  the 
first  to  remember  there  was  yet  another  trap  to  ex- 
amine. 


152        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

Now,  if  this  good  luck  would  only  hold  out  to  the 
end!  They  must  see,  and  at  once!  And,  each 
catching  hold  of  a  leg  of  the  beaver,  they  started 
on  the  run  to  the  place  where  Dill  had  set  his  trap, 
about  half  a  mile  farther  down  the  stream  where  a 
small  beaver  dam  had  forced  the  water  back  into  a 
little  pond.  There  was  one  large  beaver  lodge  in 
this  pond,  and  Dill  had  set  his  trap  in  one  of  the 
runways  leading  to  this  lodge. 

"If  there  is  a  beaver  in  my  trap,  then  we've  done 
better  than  any  other  trapper  in  our  party  ever  did," 
panted  Dill,  his  eyes  shining  and  his  face  flushing 
with  excitement  and  exertion.  "O,"I  do  hope  there 
is  one!  I  do  hope  there  is  one,  just  so  that  we  can 
say  that  we  have  beaten  them  all  catching  beavers, 
whenever  they  begin  making  fun  of  our  greenness." 

The  bottom  of  the  little  pond  was  stony  where 
Dill  had  set  his  trap,  and  so  he  had  tied  the  chain 
around  a  small  log.  When  the  excited  boys  reached 
the  place,  both  the  log  and  the  trap  were  gone. 

For  a  moment  Dill  stared  blankly  at  the  spot 
where  he  knew  the  trap  and  the  log  should  be,  then 
his  face  brightened. 

"I've  caught  one,  and  he  has  run  off  with  the  log 
and  the  trap !"  he  cried.  "O,  we  must  find  him,  or 
they  will  never  believe  that  I  really  did  catch  him ! 
— Hark!  What  was  that?"  and  both  boys  turned 
their  eyes  quickly  in  the  direction  of  the  sound  of  a 
splash  in  the  water,  coming  from  the  other  end  of 
the  dam. 


Trapped  153 

"There  he  is !"  cried  Rex.  "Come  on,  quick,  be- 
fore he  gets  out  into  deep  water,"  and  he  started 
running  across  the  dam  to  where  the  beaver  could 
be  seen  struggling  in  the  water  at  the  other  end. 

Rex  reached  the  beaver  a  little  ahead  of  Dill. 
The  log  to  which  the  chain  was  fastened  had  caught 
among  the  sticks  that  made  up  the  dam,  holding  the 
struggling  animal  within  reach  of  the  boy's  hatchet ; 
and,  in  a  moment,  he  had  bent  forward  and  killed 
him  with  a  blow  on  the  head. 

They  had  caught  ten  beavers,  in  ten  traps,  in  one 
night,  the  very  first  time  they  ever  set  ten  beaver 
traps ! 

Again  the  boys  danced  a  war-dance  of  jubilation 
around  the  bodies  of  the  two  dead  beaver  and  the 
skins  of  the  other  eight  thrown  on  top  of  them ;  and 
then,  after  a  little  while,  they  quieted  down,  ate  their 
lunch,  skinned  the  two  beavers,  and,  with  the  ten 
beavers'  skins  hanging  over  their  shoulders,  started 
back  for  camp — the  two  proudest  and  happiest  boys 
in  America. 

When  they  came  within  sight  of  the  camp  they 
saw,  to  their  surprise,  that  all  the  other  trappers 
were  in  and  gathered  in  an  excited  group  around 
Captain  Tom  in  front  of  the  tents.  Evidently  some- 
thing unusual  had  happened,  and  to  them  something 
unusual  usually  meant  danger.  But  the  boys  were 
too  excited  over  their  ten  beavers  to  give  the  matter 
any  special  thought. 

"Hurrah!"  Dill  shouted  the  moment  they  came 


154         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

within  hearing  distance.  "We  caught  ten  beavers 
in  our  ten  traps!  How  is  that  for  the  city 
greenies  ?" 

The  men  gave  a  glad  shout  when  they  saw  the 
two  boys,  and  yelled  for  them  to  hurry,  but  they  did 
not  appear  to  hear  Dill's  boast,  or,  if  they  heard  it, 
they  paid  no  attention  to  it. 

"I  wonder  what  can  have — "  began  Rex,  and 
stopped.  The  eyes  of  both  boys  had  caught  sight 
of  a  man  seated  on  a  log  near  Captain  Tom. 

"Look!  Look!"  cried  Dill  excitedly.  "Rad  Daw- 
son  has  been  hurt!  His  head  is  all  bound  up! 
Hurry!"  and  both  boys  broke  into  a  run. 

"I'm  mighty  glad  to  see  you  boys  back  safe.  We 
were  just  a-going  to  start  out  after  you,"  Captain 
Tom  said,  as  Rex  and  Dill  came  running  up. 

"Why,  what  has  happened?"  and  the  eyes  of  the 
two  boys  glanced  from  the  bloody  bandage  around 
the  hunter's  head  to  the  anxious  faces  of  the  men. 

"The  cussed  Blackfeet,"  and  Captain  Tom's  eyes 
glinted.  "Rad  ran  onto  a  large  war-party  of  them 
a-coming  down  Goose  Creek,  'bout  five  miles  up; 
and  me  and  Ham  discovered  another  large  war- 
party  a-coming  up  the  creek.  They've  got  us 
penned  up  in  this  here  little  valley  like  a  lot  of  fool- 
deer,  and  with  no  way  of  getting  out  without  a 
fight.  I  ought  to  have  known  'twon't  Blackfoot 
nature  to  let  as  small  a  party  of  whites  as  us  slip 
out  of  their  clutches  the  way  them  Blackfeet  did  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Sweetwater.  They've  just  kept 


Trapped  155 

on  our  trail  and  waited  for  reinforcements;  and 
now  we've  walked  right  into  a  trap  with  our  eyes 
and  ears  wide  open/'  and  Captain  Tom  scowled  his 
deep  disgust  at  his  own  foolishness  in  permitting 
himself  and  party  to  be  thus  caught. 

"But  they  ain't  got  our  scalps  yet,  Tom,  not  by 
a  jug  full,"  and  Ham  brought  his  huge  hand  down 
with  a  resounding  whack  on  his  thigh.  "We  can 
fight  our  way  out  of  th'  trap,  an'  I  reckon  th'  sooner 
we  do  it,  th'  better  'twill  be  for  us." 

"  'Twould  be  madness  to  try  it,"  Captain  Tom  an- 
swered. "They've  got  each  end  of  the  valley 
guarded  by  at  least  a  hundred,  maybe  two  hundred, 
Indians,  camped  right  across  the  valley  where  it  ain't 
more'n  twenty  rods  wide,  with  plenty  of  rocks  for 
them  to  hide  behind  and  shoot.  'Twould  be  sartin 
death  to  all  for  us  to  try  to  break  through  in  a  body ; 
but,"  and  his  eyes  lighted,  "one  man  might  get 
through  under  cover  of  the  darkness  of  the  night; 
and  maybe  find  some  band  of  trappers  and  get  them 
to  come  to  our  rescue.  Jim  Bridger's  party  ought 
to  be  trapping  somewhere  hereabouts  or  some  of 
the  other  bands.  We  can  hold  the  devils  at  bay 
here,  I  reckon,  as  long  as  food  and  ammunition  last ; 
for  I  calculate  they're  planning  on  just  keeping  us 
shut  up  in  this  here  little  valley  until  we've  used  up 
all  our  ammunition  or  run  out  of  grub,  and  then 
they  can  come  and  get  us  without  much  loss  to  them- 
selves. That's  the  Indian  way  of  fighting.  Yes," 
and  Captain  Tom  paused  and  his  eyes  searched  the 


156        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

faces  of  the  trappers,  "I  reckon  the  best  thing  for 
us  to  do  is  for  one  of  us  to  try  to  break  through 
to-night  and  see  if  he  can  find  help.  But  'twill  be 
a  mighty  risky  thing  to  do  and  I  am  not  going  to 
tell  anyone  to  go.  I  am  going  to  call  for  volunteers. 
Now,"  and  Captain  Tom  again  paused  and  studied 
the  faces  of  the  trappers  a  moment,  "let  the  man 
that'll  go  raise  his  right  hand." 

As  if  propelled  by  one  arm,  the  right  hand  of 
every  trapper  was  raised. 

"Good!  Not  a  coward  in  the  party,"  and  Cap- 
tain Tom  smiled  grimly.  "Now,  who  knows  the 
country  best  hereabouts  ?" 

"I  reckon  I  do,"  and  Rad  Dawson  arose  to  his 
feet.  "Leastwise  I've  hunted  an'  trapped  all 
through  this  country  clear  tew  the  Green  River." 

"But  you're  wounded,"  broke  in  Hammer  Jones, 
"an'  I—" 

"Shucks!"  interrupted  Rad  indignantly.  "Th' 
wound  ain't  nuthin'  but  jest  an  arrer  scratch  'long 
side  my  head;  an'  since  I'm  th'  only  man  in  th' 
crowd  that  knows  th'  country,  'cept  th'  Captain  an' 
of  course  he  can't  go,  I  reckon  it's  up  tew  me  tew 
git  out  of  here  tew-night  an'  try  tew  find  that  band 
of  trappers.  I'm  yer  man,  Captain." 

"I  reckon  Rad's  right,  boys,"  and  Captain  Tom's 
jaws  came  together  decisively.  "He's  the  man  to 
go.  'Twould  be  foolishness  to  send  a  man  out  who 
don't  know  the  country  when  we've  got  one  to  go 
who  does.  Better  start  a  little  after  midnight,  Rad ; 


Trapped  157 

and  now  you'd  better  go  into  one  of  the  tents  and  get 
all  the  sleep  you  can  before  going.  The  rest  of  us 
must  get  to  work  at  once  to  make  this  place  as  strong 
as  possible.  That  rock  will  help  a  lot,"  and  he 
pointed  to  the  huge  rock,  near  which  they  had 
pitched  their  tents,  "and  the  spring  will  furnish  us 
with  all  the  water  we  want.  I  reckon  the  Indians 
won't  begin  the  fight  until  to-morrow  morning,  and 
so  we've  got  all  the  rest  of  the  day  to  get  ready  for 
them.  We'll  get  a  wall  around  the  spring  the  first 
thing  to  protect  us  when  we  go  after  water.  Now 
everybody  get  to  work,"  and  Captain  Tom,  quick 
and  decisive  in  everything,  began  rapidly  giving 
orders  to  the  trappers. 

In  a  few  minutes  all,  except  the  two  men  on  guard 
and  Rad  Dawson  who  had  gone  to  lie  down  in  the 
boys'  tent,  were  busy  raising  the  walls  to  the  im- 
provised fort.  Fortunately  a  little  grove  of  trees 
grew  near  the  camp.  These  were  cut  down  as 
swiftly  as  strong  arms  and  sharp  axes  could  do  it, 
and  quickly  formed  into  a  wall  running  from  the 
Big  Rock,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  include  the  spring 
of  water  at  its  base,  and,  circling  around  to  the 
other  end  of  the  rock,  enclosed  a  space  large  enough 
to  corral  their  animals  in,  if  necessary.  Every  man 
worked  as  if  his  life  depended  on  his  efforts,  as, 
indeed,  it  did,  and  the  wall  grew  apace.  They  be- 
gan an  hour  before  sunset,  they  worked  some  four 
hours  after  the  sun  had  gone  down;  and  in  that 
short  time,  so  skillfully  and  rapidly  did  they  cut  and 


158        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

lay  the  logs,  they  had  made  a  wall  four  feet  high 
around  their  camp  and  sufficiently  thick  to  stop  an 
arrow  or  a  rifle  ball.  Then  the  light  from  the  skies 
was  hidden  by  masses  of  black  clouds  and  they  were 
obliged  to  stop  work. 

All  the  mules  and  horses  were  now  driven  inside 
this  enclosure  and  corralled  in  one  end.  Then  a 
double  guard  was  stationed  outside  the  "f ort" ;  and 
the  rest  of  our  little  band  of  trappers,  wearied  al- 
most to  exhaustion  by  their  strenuous  labors,  rolled 
themselves  up  in  their  blankets  to  get  what  sleep 
they  could  before  the  morning  dawned. 

Rex  and  Dill  and  even  Pom  had  worked  until 
every  muscle  ached  and  quivered  with  exhaustion. 
They  knew  that  each  log  laid  on  the  wall  meant 
additional  safety;  and  every  muscle  had  been  con- 
stantly strained  to  do  its  utmost.  Now,  when  they 
entered  their  tent  to  get  what  sleep  they  could,  they 
were  so  tired  they  could  hardly  drag  one  foot  after 
the  other. 

"Well,"  Dill  whispered,  as  the  two  boys  lay  down 
together — Rad  Dawson  had  rolled  himself  up  in  the 
blanket  of  Rex,  "it  begins  to  look  as  if  we  were 
going  to  have  the  Indian  fight  we  have  been  longing 
for." 

"Yes,"  responded  Rex.  "And — and  somehow, 
now  that  the  fight  is  right  at  hand,  I — I  don't  seem 
to  care  so  much  about  having  it  happen — Not  that 
I  am  afraid,"  he  added  quickly.  "But,  somehow, 
I  never  seemed  to  think  that  fighting  meant  hurting 


Trapped  159 

and  killing  before.  I  only  thought  of  the  excite- 
ment and  glory,  not  of  the  pain  of  the  wounds  and 
the  horrors  of  death.  But,  aren't  the  trappers 
brave  ?  Not  one  of  them  seems  to  fear  the  expected 
attack  by  the  Indians  in  the  least.  They  are  only 
mad  because  they  have  allowed  themselves  to  be 
caught  in  this  trap." 

"And  look  at  Rad,"  Dill  whispered,  glancing  to 
where  the  hunter  lay  snoring.  "He's  sleeping  as 
soundly  as  if  there  were  no  such  things  as  Indians 
in  the  world ;  and  yet  he  knows  that  in  a  few  hours 
he  must  be  risking  his  life  among  the  red  fiends.  I 
wonder  what  time  it  is.  It  must  be  getting  almost 
time  for  him  to  start." 

"Not  for  two  or  three  hours  yet,  I  think/'  Rex 
replied.  "And  we'd  better  be  following  Rad's  ex- 
ample, and  sleep  while  we  can.  My,  but  I  am  so 
tired  that  I  think  I  could  go  to  sleep  with  an  Indian 
a  hold  of  my  scalp-lock.  Good  night,"  and  the 
tired  boys  were  soon  sound  asleep. 

They  remembered  nothing  more  until  sometime 
later  in  the  night,  when  they  were  awakened  by 
voices  in  the  tent.  It  was  pitch  dark,  and  outside 
they  could  hear  the  rain  beating  down  steadily  on 
the  tent. 

"You'll  find  the  Indians  at  the  narrows,  probably, 
'bout  two  miles  down  the  valley,"  they  heard  the  low 
voice  of  Captain  Tom  saying;  "but  they  might  be 
scouts  nearer.  Got  everything,  Rad?  Plenty  of 
powder  and  ball?  Be  sure  and  put  your  powder 


160         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

where  it  will  keep  dry.  It's  raining  like  the  lakes 
of  heaven  had  all  sprung  leaks,  and  so  dark  you 
can't  see  two  inches  afore  your  nose." 

"Yes,"  the  boys  heard  the  hunter  reply.  "I  got 
everything  ready  afore  I  laid  down ;  an'  I'm  mighty 
glad  it's  dark  an'  rainin'.  'Twon't  be  much  tew 
slip  by  th'  Injuns  in  this  darkness.  'Pears  like  th' 
Lord  was  on  our  side,  as  He  otter  be,  in  J:his  fight. 
Now,  I'll  be  goin',"  and  Rex  and  Dill  heard  the  two 
men  pass  quietly  out  of  the  tent  into  the  darkness 
and  rain  of  that  stormy  night;  and  they  gripped 
each  other's  hand  tightly  under  the  blanket,  and  lay 
for  many  minutes  listening  shudderingly,  fearful 
of  hearing  the  dreaded  crack  of  a  rifle  or  Indian 
warwhoop  that  would  tell  them  that  the  brave  hunter 
had  been  discovered  by  his  merciless  foes.  But  all 
they  heard  was  the  steady  patter,  patter  of  the  rain 
outside  on  the  tent-roof  and  the  muffled  sounds  that 
came  from  the  near-by  horses  and  mules ;  and  soon 
once  again  sleep  closed  their  tired  eyes  and  quieted 
their  excited  senses. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  FORT  BY  THE  BIG  ROCK 

^HE  next  morning  the  clouds  had  disappeared 
*  and  the  sun  arose  warmly  in  a  clear  sky.  Not 
a  sign  of  the  Indians  was  to  be  seen,  not  a  sound 
was  heard  that  would  indicate  that  their  dread  pres- 
ence was  so  near.  The  sun  rose  higher  until  it 
shone  down  into  the  quiet  little  mountain  valley  and 
upon  the  camp  of  our  trappers,  sparkling  in  the 
swollen  waters  of  the  pond,  drying  the  rain- 
soaked  tents  and  warming  the  chilled  bodies  of  the 
men  and  animals.  All  around  the  little  encampment 
everything  looked  quiet  and  restful,  as  nature  al- 
ways does  after  a  storm.  Only  within  the  rude  en- 
closure of  logs  was  the  peaceful  charm  of  this 
beautiful  scene  marred.  Here  there  were  no 
scenes,  no  thoughts  of  peace,  only  of  war,  of  fight- 
ing, if  need  be,  to  the  bittermost  end. 

There  had  been  no  laggards  in  camp  that  morn- 
ing. All  were  up  when  the  first  light  of  day  shone 
down  in  the  little  valley,  watching,  waiting  for  the 
attack  that  they  knew  must  come  soon  now.  Scouts 
had  been  sent  out  up  and  down  the  valley  to  report 
by  the  firing  of  their  rifles  the  first  appearance  of 
the  Indians,  while  those  who  remained  were  busy 

161 


1 62       With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

preparing  to  make  the  best  possible  accounting  with 
the  redmen  when  they  came.  Some  were  at  work 
strengthening  the  walls  of  the  little  fort,  others  were 
guarding  the  horses  and  mules  while  they  fed 
near-by,  and  still  others  were  bending  over  fires 
melting  lead  and  molding  it  into  rifle  bullets.  All, 
as  they  worked,  were  listening  for  the  crack  of  a 
scout's  rifle  that  would  warn  them  that  the  Indians 
were  coming,  that  the  time  to  fight  was  at  hand. 

Rex  and  Dill  were  bending  over  one  of  the  fires 
melting  lead,  while  Pom  was  squatted  down  on  the 
ground  between  them  holding  the  molds.  Already 
there  was  a  little  pile  of  rifle  balls  by  the  negro  boy's 
side.  Near  Rex  lay  Buster,  the  grizzly  bear  cub, 
now  grown  to  the  bigness  of  a  fair-sized  dog,  his 
head  between  his  paws  and  his  shrewd  little  eyes 
watching  every  movement  of  the  boys.  Pom's  eyes 
were  rolling  in  his  head  like  white  marbles,  and  he 
acted  very  much  as  if  he  were  squatted  on  a  bunch 
of  cactuses  instead  of  on  the  smooth  ground.  Evi- 
dently Pom  was  perturbed  in  mind  and  uneasy  in 
body.  Within  easy  hand-reach  of  Rex  and  Dill  lay 
their  rifles,  and  at  safe  distance  from  Pom  lay  the 
redoubtable  double-barreled  shotgun,  that  he  had  so 
indignantly  discarded  when  he  had  had  the  adven- 
ture with  the  buffalo  calf,  and  which  Dill  had 
brought  back  with  him  to  the  camp.  For  the  first 
time  since  the  buffalo  hunt  Pom  had  been  prevailed 
on  that  morning,  under  the  stress  of  the  threatening 


The  Fort  by  the  Big  Rock  163 

Blackfoot  attack,  to  again  take  possession  of  the 
old  gun,  which  had  again  been  loaded  with  buck- 
shot; but  he  handled  the  weapon  gingerly,  and  al- 
ways laid  it  down  at  the  first  opportunity,  taking 
care  to  place  it  as  far  away  from  himself  as  he 
dared.  He  was  afraid  of  the  old  gun;  but  he  was 
still  more  afraid  of  the  Indians  from  whom  the  gun 
might  protect  him. 

"If  dem  red  debbles  done  cotch  dis  niggah  alibe, 
what  am  dey  gwine  to  do  wid  him  ?"  he  queried,  as 
he  emptied  the  bullet-mold  upon  the  little  pile  of 
rifle  balls,  his  eyes  rolling  around  as  if  he  feared  the 
"red  debbles"  might  be  within  hearing  distance. 
"Dat  am  what  I  want  to  obnosticate." 

"See  Bill,  thar,"  and  Ham,  who  at  that  moment 
had  been  passing  behind  the  boys  and  had  heard 
Pom's  anxious  query,  paused  and  pointed  to  where 
one  of  the  trappers  was  roasting  a  huge  piece  of 
meat  over  one  of  the  fires.  "If  them  Ingines  git 
you,  Pom,  they'll  spit  you  on  a  stick  an'  roast  you 
over  a  fire,  same  as  Bill  is  roastin'  that  hunk  of  ven- 
ison, an',  when  yer  done  good  an'  brown,  they'll  eat 
you  sizzlin'  hot — unless,"  and  Ham  paused  and 
winked  at  the  two  grinning  boys,  "unless  you  kill 
one  on  'em,  an'  then  they'll  jest  tie  you  tew  a  stake 
an*  burn  you  alive.  They  only  eats  fat  cowards," 
and  Ham  passed  on  with  the  log  he  was  carrying, 
chuckling  to  himself. 

"Golly !"  and  Pom  turned  a  horrified  face  to  Rex. 


164         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

"Den  dem  scan'lous  wildmans  eat  dis  niggah,  siz- 
zlin'  hot,  jes'  like  he's  a  fat  'possum,  if  dey  done 
cotch  him?" 

"Yes,"  responded  Rex,  "unless,  as  Ham  says,  you 
kill  one  of  them,  and  then  they  will  only  tie  you  to 
a  stake  and  burn  you  alive.  You'd  better  keep  that 
gun  of  yours  within  easy  reach,  Pom." 

"I  done  spec'lates  yo'  is  right,  Massah  Rex,"  Pom 
answered,  edging  nearer  his  gun ;  "f o'  it  sartinly  am 
bettah  to  be  burnt  up  tied  to  a  stake,  'spectable  like, 
dan  it  am  to  be  circumulatin'  'round  in  de  intestimals 
ob  dem  scan'lous  redmans.  I's  gwine  to  shoot  de 
pull-my-marys  out  ob  de  first  red  debbel  I  done  sot 
mah  eyes  on — O,  lordy !  Who  shoot  dat  gun  ?"  and 
Pom  jumped  to  his  feet,  caught  up  his  gun  and 
made  a  wild  rush  for  a  corner  of  the  enclosure, 
where  he  crouched  down  behind  the  logs  as  closely 
to  the  ground  as  he  could  get. 

The  single  rifle  shot  that  had  so  startled  Pom  was 
quickly  followed  by  half  a  dozen  other  shots,  some 
sounding  from  up  the  valley  and  others  coming 
from  down  the  valley. 

At  the  first  crack  of  the  rifle  Rex  and  Dill  had 
dropped  their  work,  caught  up  their  rifles  and 
rushed  to  the  wall ;  and  every  trapper  in  or  near  the 
fort  had  done  likewise,  while  the  men  who  were 
guarding  the  horses  and  mules  began  driving  them 
hurriedly  toward  the  safety  of  the  log  walls.  In 
ten  minutes  every  horse  and  mule  was  safe  within 
the  enclosure,  and  the  trappers,  their  rifles  in  their 


The  Fort  by  the  Big  Rock  165 

hands,  were  standing  behind  the  log  barricade,  look- 
ing anxiously  up  and  down  the  little  valley. 

At  first  they  could  see  no  one.  Then  there  came 
another  volley  of  shots,  now  sounding  nearer,  and, 
a  moment  later,  the  scout  who  had  gone  up  the  val- 
ley suddenly  appeared,  rounding  a  projecting  ledge 
of  rocks  and  running  toward  the  camp  at  full  speed. 
He  was  over  half  a  mile  from  the  barricade  of  logs, 
and  was  running  as  if  the  Indians  were  close  behind 
him. 

"Quick!"  shouted  Captain  Tom.  "Half  a  dozen 
of  you  men  come  with  me !"  and  he  vaulted  over  the 
logs  and  raced  toward  the  running  man,  followed 
by  six  trappers. 

Barely  had  Captain  Tom  leaped  over  the  logs, 
when  there  came  the  single  crack  of  a  rifle  from 
down  the  valley,  immediately  followed  by  a  fusillade 
of  shots,  and  the  next  moment  the  other  scout  ap- 
peared. He,  too,  was  running  as  if  the  savages 
were  close  after  him. 

"Come  on !  We'll  give  Jack  a  helpin'  hand !"  and 
Ham  leaped  over  the  barricade,  every  one  of  the 
remaining  trappers  leaping  with  him.  "Git  back 
ahind  th'  logs,  yunks!"  he  called  to  Rex  and  Dill, 
who  had  leaped  with  the  others.  "Some  one  must 
stay  ahind.  Git  back,  I  say !"  and  the  two  boys  re- 
luctantly obeyed. 

Hardly  were  the  lads  back  within  the  walls  of  the 
little  fort,  when  a  dozen  or  more  Indians  came  into 
view  from  around  the  ledge  of  rocks  in  the  upper 


1 66         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

end  of  the  valley.  They  were  running  swiftly,  evi- 
dently they  had  been  chasing  the  scout ;  but  the  mo- 
ment they  saw  Captain  Tom  and  the  trappers  rush- 
ing to  his  rescue,  they  whirled  about,  and,  darting 
back  among  the  rocks  of  the  ledge,  began  shooting 
at  the  fleeing  man. 

Rex  and  Dill  stood  watching  the  runner  with 
bated  breaths.  Never  before  had  they  seen  a 
human  being  made  the  target  of  rifle  balls ;  and  this 
man  was  a  friend ! 

"O,  if  they  should  hit  him!"  gasped  the  more 
excitable  Dill,  trembling  with  apprehension. 

"Ah-h-h !  He  is  hit !  He  is  hit !"  he  cried  in  hor- 
ror a  moment  later,  as  the  runner  fell  headlong  to 
the  ground.  "Hurry!  Hurry,  Captain  Tom,  or 
they  will  get  his  scalp !"  he  screamed,  as,  with  yells 
of  triumph,  a  half  a  dozen  Indians  leaped  up  from 
among  the  rocks  and  raced  toward  the  fallen  man. 
"No — Hurrah!  He's  getting  up!  He's  not  hit! 
Bully  for  you !  The  fall  was  but  a  ruse !"  he  yelled 
in  the  greatest  excitement,  as  the  fallen  trapper  sud- 
denly leaped  to  his  feet,  whirled  about,  and,  throw- 
ing his  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  fired  at  the  nearest  In- 
dian, who  plunged  blindly  forward  for  a  few  feet 
and  fell  heavily  to  the  ground,  while  the  other  In- 
dians, quickly  catching  their  wounded  comrade  up 
in  their  arms,  fled  precipitately  back  to  the  safety 
of  the  rocks. 

In  a  few  minutes  more  the  trapper  was  safe  with 


The  Fort  by  the  Big  Rock  167 

his  comrades ;  and  all  were  returning  in  triumph  to 
the  barricaded  camp. 

In  the  meantime  an  equally  exciting  scene  had 
been  taking  place  in  the  lower  end  of  the  valley. 
Jack  Hodge,  the  trapper  who  had  been  sent  out  to 
do  scout  duty  in  this  part  of  the  valley,  had  delayed 
to  seek  the  safety  of  the  camp  a  little  longer  than  he 
should  have  done,  and,  when  he  broke  cover  and 
started  on  the  run  for  the  barricade  of  logs,  the  fore- 
most Indians  were  not  a  hundred  yards  behind  him, 
while  he  was  nearly  three-quarters  of  a  mile  from 
his  comrades  hurrying  to  his  rescue.  The  Indians, 
nearly  all  of  those  in  the  race  were  armed  with 
rifles,  fired  their  guns  as  they  ran ;  but  an  Indian  is 
usually  a  poor  shot  with  a  rifle,  and  not  a  ball 
touched  Jack  Hodge,  who,  to  discomfit  their  aim, 
kept  constantly  jumping  sideways.  This  mode  of 
running,  while  it  promised  safety  from  the  rifle  balls, 
was  not  conducive  to  great  speed,  and  his  foes 
gained  on  him  rapidly. 

"Let  her  out  another  notch,"  panted  Ham,  seeing 
how  swiftly  the  Indians  were  gaining  on  Jack  "or 
they'll  git  him,"  and  he  and  his  companions  strained 
every  muscle  to  get  within  rifle  shot  before  the  red- 
men  overtook  the  fleeing  trapper. 

One  of  the  Indians,  a  man  with  an  unusually  long 
pair  of  legs,  gained  so  rapidly  that  he  was  soon  only 
a  few  yards  behind  Jack.  He  had  thrown  aside  his 
rifle,  and  his  only  weapon  was  his  tomahawk,  which 


1 68        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

he  held  in  his  right  hand,  ready  to  throw  or  strike 
when  within  throwing  or  striking  distance.  The 
nearest  of  the  other  Indians  was  a  dozen  rods  behind 
him. 

A  glance  backward  showed  Jack  how  close  one  of 
his  pursuers  was  getting;  but  that  sight  did  not 
trouble  the  bold  heart  of  the  trapper.  If  he  could 
escape  the  rifle  balls,  he  did  not  fear  this  one  man 
armed  only  with  a  tomahawk.  He  glanced  back- 
ward again.  The  Indian  now  was  not  more  than  a 
dozen  feet  behind  him  and  the  keen  tomahawk  was 
raised  to  throw  with  deadly  aim.  The  time  to  act 
had  come.  With  a  swift  bound  sideways,  Jack 
stopped,  whirled  about  and  swung  the  butt  of  his 
rifle  above  his  head. 

The  Indian  had  no  thought  of  such  a  maneuver 
on  the  part  of  the  trapper,  and  was  totally  unpre- 
pared. He  tried  to  stop,  to  hurl  his  tomahawk;  but, 
before  he  could  do  either,  the  heavy  butt  of  the 
trapper's  rifle  hit  his  head — and  he  was  out  of  the 
race. 

With  a  yell  of  triumph  Jack  rushed  on;  and,  a 
moment  after,  the  rest  of  his  pursuers  were  sent 
scurrying  back  down  the  valley  by  a  volley  from  the 
rifles  of  Ham  and  his  comrades.  Five  minutes  later 
all  the  trappers  were  safe  within  the  barricade  of 
logs. 

Now,  in  order  that  you  may  properly  understand 
the  fight  that  followed  between  the  trappers  and  the 
Indians,  it  is  necessary  for  you  to  know  something 


The  Fort  by  the  Big  Rock  169 

of  the  situation  of  the  little  encampment  that  our 
friends  had  so  hurriedly  barricaded. 

The  valley,  where  they  had  pitched  their  tents, 
was,  perhaps,  two  miles  wide  at  its  widest  point, 
and,  possibly  three  miles  long,  with  sides  gradually 
narrowing  down  to  a  width  of  fifteen  or  twenty  rods 
at  the  entrance  and  exit  of  Goose  Creek.  The  sur- 
rounding mountains  were  precipitous  and  impass- 
able, the  only  way  in  or  out  of  the  valley  being  along 
the  shores  of  Goose  Creek.  The  little  lake  or  pond 
was  almost  directly  in  the  center  of  the  valley,  and 
was  some  forty  rods  wide  by  eighty  long.  On  the 
east  side  of  the  pond  and  some  five  rods  from  the 
water,  a  huge  rock  projected  up  out  of  the  ground 
thirty  or  more  feet  into  the  air.  A  little  knoll  near 
this  rock,  you  will  remember,  was  the  place  where 
Captain  Tom  had  pitched  their  camp.  At  the  base 
of  the  side  of  the  rock  nearest  to  the  pond  was  the 
spring  of  water  already  mentioned.  The  rock  it- 
self was  some  twenty  feet  wide  by  thirty  long,  with 
almost  precipitous  sides  and  a  flat  top. 

The  barricade  of  logs  had  been  built  from  the 
southwestern  corner  of  the  rock,  the  one  nearest 
to  the  pond,  for  a  dozen  feet  west,  so  as  to  include 
the  spring  of  water,  thence  north  for,  perhaps,  sixty 
feet,  then  eastward  around  the  top  of  the  little  knoll 
for  another  sixty  feet,  then  south  sixty  feet,  and 
then  west  straight  to  the  southeastern  corner  of  the 
rock. 

This  made  a  barricaded  enclosure  about  sixty 


170        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

feet  square,  with  the  huge  rock  standing  up  midway 
in  its  southern  side,  like  a  great  tower,  which,  in- 
deed, it  very  closely  resembled. 

Westward  from  this  little  fort  stretched  the  level 
surface  of  the  pond  for  forty  rods ;  and  for  two  hun- 
dred yards  around  the  remaining  sides  there  was 
not  a  rock,  nor  tree,  nor  shrub  behind  which  an  In- 
dian might  safely  conceal  himself.  An  experienced 
trapper,  like  Captain  Tom,  never,  while  in  the  In- 
dian country,  camped  where  it  would  be  possible  for 
the  cunning  savages  to  conceal  themselves  within 
easy  shooting  distance  of  the  encampment ;  and  the 
intuitive  caution  of  Captain  Tom  had,  in  this  in- 
stance, caused  him  to  select  the  most  defensible 
camping-place  in  the  little  valley.  Beyond  this 
limit  there  were  a  number  of  scattered  groves  of 
trees  and  clumps  of  bushes  and  piles  of  rocks  that 
might  afford  shelter  and  concealment  to  their  savage 
enemies;  but,  in  those  days,  few  rifles  would  do  ef- 
fective shooting  at  two  hundred  yards  and  these 
were  not  apt  to  be  in  the  hands  of  Indians,  while,  of 
course,  the  range  was  utterly  beyond  the  reach  of 
arrows, 

Such,  then,  was  the  situation  in  which  our  little 
band  of  trappers  found  themselves  on  this  morning, 
when  the  Blackfeet  poured  into  the  little  mountain 
valley  from  the  north  and  from  the  south,  and  laid 
siege  to  the  Fort  by  the  side  of  the  Big  Rock. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  VALLEY 

waste  a  shot,  boys.  Be  sure  you've 
got  your  Indian  before  you  pull  trigger," 
Captain  Tom  warned,  as  the  trappers  began  station- 
ing themselves  around  the  walls  inside  the  little  en- 
closure of  logs,  the  moment  they  were  safe  in  the 
fort.  "I  reckon  we  can  keep  off  them  Indians  as 
long  as  our  powder  and  grub  hold  out;  and  we'd 
better  begin  right  now  not  to  waste  a  charge  of  the 
one  nor  a  mouthful  of  t'other." 

Large  bodies  of  Indians  were  now  seen  gathering 
in  both  ends  of  the  valley;  but  too  far  off  for  rifle 
ball  to  reach  them  from  the  fort.  Evidently  they 
were  considering  the  situation;  for  they  galloped 
about  on  their  horses  to  different  points  of  view; 
and,  finally,  half  a  dozen  warriors  from  each  body 
began  circling  round  the  outer  edge  of  the  little 
valley  toward  each  other,  being  careful  to  keep  out 
of  range  of  the  rifles  of  the  trappers.  When  the 
two  parties  met  they  stopped,  and,  climbing  to  the 
flat  top  of  a  rock  that  overlooked  the  valley,  stood 
there,  within  plain  sight  of  the  trappers,  for  half  an 
hour  conferring  together.  Then  they  climbed  down 
off  the  rock,  mounted  their  horses  and  galloped  back 

171 


172          With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

to  the  Indians  awaiting  them  at  either  end  of  the 
valley. 

"Now  look  out  for  some  Ingine  devilment,"  Ham- 
mer Jones,  who  stood  near  Rex  and  Dill,  cautioned. 
"I  reckon  that's  what  that  thar  pow-wow  on  that 
thar  rock  meant." 

"There  must  be  about  two  hundred  Indians  at 
each  end  of  the  valley,"  Rex  declared.  "I've 
counted  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  at  the  lower 
end,  and  there  must  be  a  lot  I  can't  see;  and  Dill  has 
counted  about  the  same  number  at  the  upper  end. 
Four  hundred  Indians  against  seventeen  white 
men!" 

"An'  one  on  'em  a  nigger,"  laughed  Ham. 
"Wai,  I  calculate  we're  good  for  th'  hull  caboodle 
as  long  as  our  powder  an'  grub  holds  out ;  an'  afore 
they  give  out  Rad'll  be  back  with  a  lot  of  trappers 
that'll  send  th'  red  devils  scootin'  over  th'  moun- 
tains, like  stampedin'  buffalos.  Ingines  ain't  got 
no  stumiks  for  chargin'  rifles  ahind  logs,  especially 
when  thar's  white  trappers  ahind  th'  guns ;  an'  that's 
th'  only  way  they  can  git  us.  Wai,  I'll  be  durned, 
if  they  ain't  a-goin'  tew  give  us  some  palaver  afore 
they  begin  tew  shoot !" 

As  the  honest  trapper  spoke,  a  tall  chief  was  seen 
to  detach  himself  from  the  body  of  Indians  in  the 
lower  end  of  the  valley,  and  to  advance  slowly  to- 
ward the  big  rock  where  our  trappers  lay  behind 
their  log  fort.  When  within  two  hundred  yards  of 
the  barricade,  he  laid  down  his  rifle  and  other 


The  Fight  in  the  Valley  173 

weapons,  and,  raising  his  empty  palms  to  show  his 
unarmed  condition  and  the  peaceful  nature  of  his 
mission,  he  continued  to  advance. 

Captain  Tom  now  laid  down  his  weapons,  and, 
jumping  over  the  wall,  walked  toward  the  Indian. 
They  met  about  twenty  rods  from  the  fort.  For, 
possibly,  ten  minutes  they  stood  talking  together, 
then  the  chief  turned  and  strode  back  to  his  war- 
riors, disdaining  to  give  a  single  backward  glance, 
although  he  knew  that  he  was  within  easy  range  of 
the  deadly  rifles  behind  the  logs.  Captain  Tom  re- 
turned to  the  barricade,  and,  as  he  jumped  over  the 
walls  inside  the  enclosure,  there  came  a  broad  grin 
on  his  face. 

"Well,  men,"  he  said,  "seems  we  won't  have  to 
fight  after  all.  Them  there  Indians  have  taken 
pity  on  our  helplessness  and,  not  being  bloody- 
minded,  they're  willing  to  let  us  go  without  harm- 
ing a  hair  of  our  heads,  providing  we'll  get  out  of 
their  country  just  as  fast  as  our  legs  will  take  us/' 
and  he  paused  to  regard  the  astonished  faces  of  the 
trappers  with  twinkling  eyes. 

"Wai,  I'll  be  durned!"  ejaculated  Ham. 

"And  providing,"  continued  Captain  Tom,  his 
face  hardening,  "that  we'll  leave  all  our  weapons 
behind." 

"Never!"  yelled  a  dozen  of  the  men  jumping  to 
their  feet.  "We  don't  give  up  no  guns !" 

"And  further  providing,"  continued  Captain 
Tom,  his  eyes  beginning  to  snap,  "that  we  leave  all 


174        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

our  mules  and  horses  and  traps  and  furs  and  bag- 
gage behind." 

"Wai,  I'll  be  durned!"  again  ejaculated  Ham. 

"I  told  the  chief  we'd  hang  up  a  white  flag,  if  it 
was  surrender ;  and,  if  it  was  fight,  we'd  shoot  off  a 
rifle.  Now,  what  do  you  say,  men?"  and  Captain 
Tom  straightened  up  to  his  full  height,  his  strong 
jaws  set  firmly.  "Shall  it  be  fight?  or  surrender?" 

"Burn  'em !  Fight !"  yelled  Ham,  jumping  to  his 
feet.  "Everybody  that  wants  tew  fight  make  it 
manifest  by  shootin'  his  gun,"  and  Ham  threw  his 
own  rifle  to  his  shoulder. 

As  if  worked  by  one  pair  of  arms,  the  rifles  of  the 
trappers  and  of  Rex  and  Dill  went  to  their 
shoulders.  In  his  excitement,  even  Pom  threw  his 
own  gun  to  his  shoulder. 

"Fire!"  yelled  Ham;  and  the  rifles  cracked  and 
Pom's  shotgun  boomed  like  a  young  cannon. 

"Golly !"  and  Pom  stood  proudly  rubbing  his  ach- 
ing shoulder,  "dat  sartinly  am  a  pow'ful  fine  gun 
fo'  kickin'  an'  bangin'.  It  done  make  mo'  noise  dan 
a  dozen  ob  dem  crackers,"  and  his  eyes  rested  a  bit 
contemptuously  on  the  rifles  of  the  boys. 

Both  boys  laughed,  and  complimented  Pom  on 
his  courage  in  shooting  the  gun  off;  and  told  him 
"to  load  her  up  again"  and  to  "be  sure  and  put  in  a 
big  load,"  because  now  they  were  going  to  fight  the 
Indians  and  the  gun  might  be  the  means  of  saving 
him  from  being  eaten  up,  sizzling  hot. 


The  Fight  in  the  Valley  175 

"Am  we  gwine  to  fight  all  dem  redmans?"  and 
Pom  looked  from  the  Indians  crowding  in  one  end 
of  the  valley,  to  the  crowd  of  red  warriors  gathered 
in  the  other  end. 

"Yes,  Pom,"  Rex  replied,  his  face  sobering. 
"It's  fight,  or  be  killed  without  fighting,  and  white 
men  will  always  fight  for  their  lives." 

"An'  dis  niggah  can't  nohow  run  away,"  and  his 
glance  rolled  around  the  surrounding  valley,  shut  in 
by  wild  and  rugged  mountains;  "an'  I's  jes'  gotter 
fight,  or  dem  scan'lous  redmans  done  roast  dis  nig- 
gah alibe  an'  eat  him  sizzlin'  hot,"  and  Pom  shud- 
dered. 

"I  reckon  that's  about  it,  Pom,"  and  there  was 
no  smile  on  Rex's  face  as  he  answered. 

"Den  I's  gwine  to  make  dis  ol'  gun  do  some  pow'- 
ful  loud  hollerin',  eben  if  she  done  ram  mah  sho'l- 
dah-blade  tro'  de  back  ob  mah  neck,  befo'  dem  red- 
mans  gits  dis  niggah,"  and  Pom  began  reloading 
his  gun,  his  fat  face  wrinkled  into  ludicrous  lines 
of  determination. 

The  rifle  volley  of  the  trappers  had  been  answered 
by  furious  yells  of  defiance  from  the  Indians;  and 
now  they  began  slowly  advancing  toward  the  little 
band  of  trappers  from  both  ends  of  the  valley, 
spreading  out  as  they  advanced,  so  that  when  the 
two  bodies  met  there  would  be  a  complete  circle  of 
armed  warriors  surrounding  the  little  Fort  by  the 
Big  Rock.  Rocks  and  trees  and  bushes  partially 


176        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

hid  the  advancing  Indians  from  the  anxious  eyes  in 
the  fort;  but  their  hideous  yells  told  where  they 
were  when  the  eye  could  not  see  them. 

"Now,  don't  get  excited  and  waste  any  bullets  on 
them  while  they're  out  of  range,"  Captain  Tom 
cautioned,  as  the  circling  lines  of  yelling  Indians 
came  nearer.  "They'll  try  to  draw  our  fire,  and  get 
us  to  waste  all  the  powder  they  can;  and  once  our 
powder's  gone,  we're  gone,"  he  ended  sententiously. 

The  circle  of  Indians  was  now  so  near  that  it 
seemed  to  Rex  and  Dill  as  if  some  of  the  savages 
must  be  getting  almost  within  range  of  their  rifles ; 
but  not  a  gun  was  leveled  at  them.  The  trappers 
stood,  scattered  at  regular  intervals  around  the  en- 
closure, their  keen  eyes  quietly  watching  every 
movement  of  the  Indians,  their  long  rifles  held  in 
their  hands  ready  for  instant  use;  but  there  was  no 
excitement  among  them,  only  a  tense  watchfulness 
that  showed  how  ready  they  would  be  to  act  when 
the  time  for  action  came. 

About  three  hundred  yards  north  of  the  little 
fort,  near  the  end  of  the  pond,  was  a  grove  of  willow 
and  cottonwood  trees  that  spread  out  over  the  valley 
for  twenty  or  more  rods.  For  some  time  the  eyes 
of  Captain  Tom  had  been  watching  this  grove  in- 
tently. He  now  motioned  Hammer  Jones  to  his 
side. 

"Looks  to  me,  Ham,"  he  said,  "as  if  the  Indians 
were  getting  ready  for  some  devilment  in  that  there 


The  Fight  in  the  Valley  177 

grove.  The  woods  are  alive  with  them,  or  else  my 
eyes  are  failing  me." 

Ham  stood  for  a  couple  of  minutes,  scrutinizing 
the  grove  keenly,  before  he  answered.  Then  he 
turned  to  Captain  Tom. 

"I  reckon  you're  right,  Captain,"  he  agreed. 
"An',  if  I  don't  miss  my  calculations,  they're  gittin' 
ready  for  a  charge,  a-hossback,  tew.  Seems  as  if 
I  could  see  hosses— Hi !— Hello !— Wai,  I'll  be 
durned!" 

Captain  Tom  and  Ham  both  turned  quickly,  for 
at  that  moment  a  large  body  of  mounted  Indians 
burst  out  from  behind  a  ridge  of  rocks  half  a  mile 
to  the  south,  and,  yelling  like  fiends  and  lashing  their 
horses,  rushed  straight  toward  the  barricade  of  logs. 

"Hold  your  fire !  Hold  your  fire !"  cried  Captain 
Tom,  running  to  the  threatened  side  of  the  fort. 
"Don't  shoot  until  you  are  sure  of  your  Indian  or 
horse.  We  must  make  every  shot  of  the  first  volley 
count,"  and  he  threw  his  big  Remington  across  the 
top  of  the  log  barricade. 

All  the  other  trappers  quickly  followed  Captain 
Tom  and  Ham,  Rex  and  Dill  with  the  rest,  leaving 
the  other  sides  of  the  fort  unguarded  for  the  mo- 
ment. 

It  was  a  terrible  sight,  especially  to  eyes  unac- 
customed to  such  scenes  of  savage  warfare,  to  see 
those  wild  men  on  their  wild  looking  horses,  flour- 
ishing their  weapons  and  yelling  their  dreadful  war- 


178        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

cries,  rushing  down  upon  that  little  band  of  trap- 
pers, as  if  they  would  crush  and  overwhelm  them, 
as  the  angry  hurricane  crushes  and  overwhelms  the 
forest;  and  no  wonder  that  the  faces  of  Rex  and  Dill 
grew  white  and  the  hands  that  held  their  rifles 
trembled,  as  they  stood  with  their  guns  held  across 
the  top  log  of  the  wall  and  their  eyes  on  the  on-rush- 
ing savages,  waiting  for  the  moment  to  shoot  to 
come. 

Suddenly  Captain  Tom  whirled  about  and  looked 
northward.  In  the  excitement  of  the  moment  he 
had  almost  forgotten  the  grove  of  trees  in  the  other 
end  of  the  valley  and  the  Indians  seen  gathering 
there.  At  the  first  glance,  even  his  bronzed  face 
whitened  and  the  blood  jumped  with  a  bound 
through  his  hot  veins. 

Fully  two  hundred  Indians,  all  mounted  on  their 
war-ponies,  were  riding,  swift  and  silent  as  the 
wind,  straight  toward  the  little  fort.  Already  they 
had  covered  nearly  half  the  distance.  In  another 
minute  their  cunning  ruse  would  have  been  suc- 
cessful. 

"Quick!  Ten  of  you  men  with  me  to  the  other 
side  of  the  fort!  The  rest  remain  where  you  are!" 
and,  even  in  the  intense  excitement  of  that  moment, 
there  was  no  tremor  in  Captain  Tom's  voice,  and  not 
for  an  instant  were  his  wits  confused. 

"Down  behind  the  logs !"  he  cried,  as  the  ten  men 
leaped  with  him  to  the  other  side  of  the  walled  en- 
closure. "Don't  let  the  Indians  see  you  until  you 


The  Fight  in  the  Valley  179 

shoot!  We  will  give  them  a  dose  of  their  own 
medicine.  Don't  a  man  of  you  shoot  until  I  tell  you 
to!"  and,  with  his  lips  drawn  tightly  across  his  set 
teeth,  Captain  Tom  crouched  behind  the  logs,  his 
men  crouching  along  the  wall  by  his  sides. 

Rex  and  Dill  had  sprung  with  Captain  Tom  to 
the  opposite  side  of  the  fort ;  and  now  bent,  crouch- 
ing with  the  others  behind  the  wall,  looking  through 
chinks  between  the  logs  at  the  on-coming  Indians. 

The  Indians  rode  about  six  feet  apart,  six  ranks 
deep,  naked  to  the  breech-cloths,  their  weapons  held 
ready  in  their  hands,  their  faces,  contorted  into 
horrid  grimaces,  showing  above  their  horses'  heads ; 
and  not  a  sound  coming  from  their  dread  ranks,  but 
the  dull  thuds  of  their  horses'  hoofs  beating  down 
upon  the  long  dry  grass  of  the  valley. 

"Each  man  shoot  at  the  Indian  straight  in  front 
of  him,"  cautioned  Captain  Tom,  "and  don't  pull 
trigger  until  you're  sure  you've  got  your  man — 
Steady— Steady— Wait !" 

The  Indians  were  now  so  near  that  they  could  see 
their  glistening  bead-like  eyes,  even  the  fiendish 
grins  on  their  wild  faces — and  still  Captain  Tom 
remained  impassive. 

Now  they  were  almost  upon  the  log  walls,  were 
just  opening  their  mouths  for  the  terrible  war- 
whoop — 

"I'll  take  the  chief  on  the  black  horse.  Now- 
Ready — Fire!"  and  Captain  Tom  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  threw  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder. 


I  So         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

As  one  man  the  trappers  leaped  to  their  feet  and 
poured  their  bullets  into  the  charging  mass  of  In- 
dians. 

The  chief  reeled  on  the  back  of  the  black  horse 
and  tumbled  headlong  to  the  ground.  A  dozen 
other  warriors  swayed  in  their  saddles,  clinging 
desperately  to  their  horses'  necks  or  falling  off  their 
backs  to  the  ground. 

At  this  critical  moment  Pom  managed  to  pluck 
up  courage  enough  to  pull  both  triggers  of  his 
heavily  loaded  shotgun;  and,  with  a  tremendous 
bang — bang,  the  two  charges  of  buckshot  were 
poured  into  the  jumbled  mass  of  warriors  and 
horses. 

A  half  a  dozen  Indians  reeled  in  their  saddles, 
and  a  half  a  dozen  horses  plunged  madly,  while 
Pom,  himself,  was  kicked  flat  on  his  back;  but  the 
shots  had  been  the  last  straw  needed  to  break  the 
back  of  the  charge,  and  with  wild  yells  the  Indians 
wheeled  their  horses  about  and  fled,  followed,  before 
they  were  out  of  range,  by  another  volley  from  the 
quickly-loaded  rifles  of  the  trappers. 

During  these  stirring  moments  Hammer  Jones 
and  the  men  who  were  with  him  at  the  south  side 
of  the  enclosure  had  been  having  an  almost  equally 
exciting  time.  The  Indians  here  had  timed  their 
charge  so  as  to  come  within  range  a  few  minutes 
behind  their  comrades  on  the  north ;  but,  when  they 
did  come,  they  came  like  a  whirlwind  of  savage 


HALF-A-DOZEN  INDIANS  REELED  IN  THEIR  SADDLES. 


The  Fight  in  the  Valley  181 

fury.  The  first  volley  of  the  trappers  did  not  stop 
them,  although  it  emptied  a  number  of  their  sad- 
dles ;  and  they  were  within  ten  rods  of  the  log  walls 
when  the  defeat  of  their  comrades  on  the  north, 
knocked  the  wind  all  out  of  the  sails  of  their  courage, 
and  they  fled  precipitately  out  of  range  of  those 
deadly  rifles  behind  the  log  walls. 

Now,  how  the  trappers  did  yell  and  cheer !  They 
leaped  upon  top  of  the  log  walls  and  swung  their 
rifles  around  their  heads  and  shouted  their  defiance 
to  their  savage  foes;  and  then  they  quieted  down 
and  waited,  with  loaded  rifles,  for  well  they  knew 
that  this  was  but  the  beginning  of  the  battle. 

"I  reckon  them  Ingines  got  their  stumicks  plumb 
full  of  chargin'  that  time,"  Ham  said,  smiling 
grimly.  "But  they  sure  will  want  our  scalps  now 
powerful  bad,  seein'  we  got  so  many  of  their  men," 
and  his  eyes  glanced  over  the  surrounding  valley, 
dotted  here  and  there  with  the  bodies  of  fallen  In- 
dians and  horses. 

"Golly !"  and  Pom  stood  before  Rex  and  Dill,  one 
lip  very  much  swollen  from  the  effects  of  the  gun 
kick,  his  left  hand  held  against  his  aching  right 
shoulder,  "dat  am  a  pow'ful  gun  fo'  killin'  Injuns," 
and  he  glanced  in  the  direction  of  his  gun,  which 
still  lay  on  the  ground  where  it  had  been  kicked  by 
its  discharge.  "I  done  sawed  pieces  ob  redmans 
flyin'  ebbery  whichways,  when  I  shooted.  I  reckon 
no  redmans  done  gwine  eat  dis  niggah  now,  sizzlin' 


1 82         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

hot,"  and  he  puffed  out  his  fat  chest  as  proudly  as 
if  the  defeat  of  the  Indians  had  all  been  owing  to 
the  prowess  of  his  unaided  arm. 

"Bully  for  you,  Pom,"  and  Rex  clapped  the  negro 
boy  heartily  on  the  shoulder.  "That  certainly  was 
a  great  shot.  But  load  your  gun  up  again.  The 
Indians  might  make  another  charge  almost  any 
time." 

"Sartinly.  I  was  jes'  gwine  to  load  her,"  and 
Pom  hurriedly  picked  up  his  gun  and  began  ram- 
ming powder  and  buckshot  down  its  two  barrels. 

For  a  couple  of  hours  after  the  charge  the  In- 
dians made  no  hostile  movements,  but  the  warriors 
could  be  seen  gathered  in  excited  groups  out  of 
range  all  around  the  little  valley,  while  their  chiefs 
and  headmen  were  evidently  holding  a  council  of 
war.  At  the  end  of  this  time,  a  string  of  warriors, 
stretching  across  the  eastern  half  of  the  lower  end 
of  the  valley  began  moving  slowly  toward  the  en- 
campment. 

"Now,  what  can  th'  vermints  be  up  tew?"  com- 
mented Hammer  Jones,  as  he  and  the  other  trappers 
stood  watching  the  advancing  Indians  with  anxious 
eyes.  "Can  you  make  out  th'  special  brand  of  this 
new  kind  of  Ingine  devilment,  Tom  ?"  and  he  turned 
to  Captain  Tom,  who  stood  by  his  side  scanning  the 
approaching  line  of  warriors,  his  forehead  corru- 
gated with  wrinkles. 

"You've  got  me,  Ham,"  Captain  Tom  replied, 
"unless—" 


The  Fight  in  the  Valley  183 

He  suddenly  straightened  up,  his  face  whitening 
beneath  its  tan,  as  the  long  line  of  Indians  halted 
and  each  warrior  knelt  and  bent  over  in  the  grass. 

"My  God,  they're  going  to  set  the  grass  on  fire !" 
he  cried,  as  little  curls  of  smoke  were  seen  rising 
upward  in  front  of  each  Indian.  "And  there's 
enough  long  dry  grass  in  it  to  make  it  burn  like 
tinder !  And  the  wind  is  blowing  right  this  way !" 
He  paused  and  looked  anxiously  around  into  the 
whitening  faces  of  the  men. 

Not  a  man  there  but  knew  at  the  first  glance  what 
that  long  line  of  starting  fires  meant — a  wall  of  fire 
swiftly  growing  higher  and  hotter  as  it  came  nearer, 
racing  down  upon  them  with  the  speed  of  the  wind, 
charged  with  the  hot  breath  of  death,  human 
strength,  human  skill,  human  courage  helpless  to 
stay  its  awful  course. 

For  a  minute  the  horrified  men  stared  into  the 
faces  of  one  another,  then  the  look  of  grim  daunt- 
less courage,  the  courage  that  fears  no  death  no 
matter  what  the  form  it  comes  in,  came  back  into 
each  face. 

"We  can  take  to  th'  water  of  th'  pond,"  suggested 
one  of  the  trappers. 

"Twould  only  be  to  make  targets  of  ourselves 
for  the  Indians,"  Captain  Tom  replied.  "They'd 
shoot  us  down  afore  we  could  get  out  of  the  water." 

"Can't  we  git  on  our  hosses  an'  charge  th'  skunks 
up  th'  valley  ?  Better  tew  die  fightin'  that  way,  than 
to  stay  here  to  be  roasted  like  chunks  of  venison," 


184       With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

and  the  eyes  of  Hammer  Jones  glinted  savagely. 

For  a  minute  Captain  Tom  did  not  answer,  but 
stood,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  long  line  of  distant  blazes 
that  were  rapidly  growing  brighter  and  higher  and 
coming  nearer,  then  his  jaws  came  together  with  a 
snap  and  he  turned  swiftly  to  the  men. 

"Ham  is  right/7  he  said.  "Saddle  the  horses  and 
the  mules  and  we'll  charge  the  devils.  Some  of  us 
might  get  through;  and  it  is  sure  death  to  all  of  us 
to  stay  here — and  it's  roasting!  Now  get  the  sad- 
dles on  mighty  quick,  for  there  won't  be  a  minute 
to  spare/'  and  he  sprang  for  his  own  saddle  and 
bridle,  and  with  him  sprang  all  the  other  trappers 
and  Rex  and  Dill  and  Pom,  each  for  his  own  horse 
or  mule. 

And  there  was  need  of  haste ;  for  by  this  time  the 
little  blazes  that  the  Indians  had  kindled  had  all 
united  into  one  great  wall  of  fire,  that,  driven  by  the 
wind,  was  rushing  down  upon  them  with  the  speed 
of  a  race-horse,  while  in  wake  of  the  fire  the  exult- 
ing Indians  were  yelling  and  dancing  like  fiends 
incarnated.  They  knew  that  the  charge  of  their 
red  ally  could  not  be  driven  back,  even  by  the  deadly 
bullets  of  the  trappers. 

In  three  minutes  the  saddles  were  all  on  the  backs 
of  the  horses  and  the  mules ;  and  all  were  ready  for 
the  charge — seventeen  white  men  against  hundreds 
of  Indians  hiding  behind  rocks  and  trees !  Not  one 
of  them  but  knew  what  the  issue  would  be — a  gal- 
lant charge  to  an  herioc  death ! 


The  Fight  in  the  Valley  185 

At  this  moment  the  eyes  of  Rex  happened  to 
glance  upward  and  rested  on  a  jagged  point  of  rock 
that  projected  out  from  the  top  of  the  Big  Rock 
some  thirty  feet  above  his  head.  For  an  instant  he 
stared  at  that  jagged  point,  and  then  he  turned 
quickly. 

"Captain  Tom,"  he  cried  excitedly,  "look,  there 
at  that  point  of  rock!"  and  he  pointed  upward. 
"Couldn't  we  throw  a  rope  around  it,  and  fasten  it 
there,  and  climb  to  the  top  of  the  rock?  We'd  be 
out  of  the  reach  of  the  fire  then,  and — " 

"The  boy  is  right!"  almost  yelled  Captain  Tom, 
leaping  toward  their  packs  where  a  number  of  coils 
of  strong  rope  lay. 

In  a  moment  a  dozen  hands  were  swiftly  at  work 
tying  knots  about  a  foot  a  part  in  the  rope,  to  aid 
them  when  climbing;  and  when  a  sufficient  length 
of  rope,  some  sixty  feet,  had  been  thus  prepared, 
Captain  Tom  tied  a  stone  in  one  end,  and  stepped 
to  the  side  of  the  rocks  to  throw  it  over  the  project- 
ing point.  At  the  first  cast  the  stone  passed  over 
the  point  of  rock  and  fell  to  the  ground  on  the 
other  side,  leaving  the  rope  hanging  from  the  rock. 
Captain  Tom  gripped  both  ropes  together  and  pulled 
strongly.  The  rope  held  firmly. 

"Up  with  you!"  and  Captain  Tom  turned  per- 
emptorily to  Rex.  "You  saw  the  point  and  you 
go  up  first." 

For  an  instant  Rex  hesitated,  then  he  threw  both 
arms  round  the  glossy  neck  of  White  Cloud,  and 


1 86         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

sobbingly  bid  him  good-by.     He  never  thought  to 
see  the  noble  gift  of  White  Otter  again. 

"Hurry!  There  ain't  a  moment  to  waste,"  and 
Captain  Tom  caught  Rex  by  the  shoulder  and 
pulled  him  toward  the  rope. 

With  a  last  look  at  White  Cloud,  Rex  caught  hold 
of  the  rope  and  began  rapidly  climbing  upward. 
In  a  few  seconds  he  had  reached  the  point  of  rock 
and  pulled  himself  up  on  top  of  the  Big  Rock. 

"Now,  you/'  and  Captain  Tom  turned  to  Dill. 

In  a  minute  more  Dill  was  by  the  side  of  Rex. 

"Now,  nig,"  and  Captain  Tom  caught  Pom  by 
the  arm  and  jerked  him  toward  the  rope.  "Get  up 
that  rope  like  a  streak  of  black  lightning." 

Pom  rolled  his  eyes  up  toward  the  face  of  Cap- 
tain Tom,  grabbed  the  rope  and  went  up  it  like  a 
squirrel  up  a  tree. 

Then  one  by  one  the  trappers  climbed  the  rope  to 
the  top  of  the  Big  Rock.  The  rifles  and  an  abund- 
ance of  ammunition  and  what  food  could  be  quickly 
got  together  had  been  tied  up  into  bundles;  and 
these  were  now  swiftly  pulled  by  ropes  to  the  top  of 
the  rock,  Hammer  Jones  and  Captain  Tom  alone 
remaining  on  the  ground. 

"Now  we  must  throw  down  the  logs  so  that  the 
horses  and  mules  can  get  out,"  and  Captain  Tom, 
with  Ham  by  his  side,  sprang  to  the  wall  of  logs. 

In  another  minute  the  two  men  had  made  an 
opening  large  enough  for  the  horses  and  mules  to 
escape;  but  they  had  not  done  this  an  instant  too 


The  Fight  in  the  Valley  187 

soon,  for,  as  they  leaped  back  to  the  rope,  the  wall 
of  fire  was  within  a  couple  of  rods  of  the  Big  Rock, 
and  the  horses  and  mules  were  plunging  madly, 
crazed  with  fear.  They  could  hear  the  roar  of  the 
flames  and  feel  their  hot  breaths,  as  they  raced  up 
the  rope ;  and  strong  hands  grabbed  them  and  pulled 
them  to  safety,  just  as  the  fire,  with  a  rush  and  roar 
swept  down  upon  the  Big  Rock. 

"Flat!  Down  flat  on  the  rock!"  panted  Captain 
Tom,  as  he  threw  himself,  face  down,  at  full  length 
on  the  rock. 

In  a  minute  the  wall  of  fire  had  swept  by ;  but,  in 
that  minute,  so  intense  was  the  heat,  that,  even  on 
top  of  the  rock  thirty  feet  above  the  ground,  our 
friends  felt  as  if  they  had  been  suddenly  thrust  into 
a  hot  furnace,  and  then  as  quickly  drawn  out  again, 
as  the  cool  breeze  that  followed  the  flames  struck 
them. 

They  found  the  center  of  the  top  of  the  Big  Rock 
as  level  as  a  floor,  with  a  bulwark  of  rocks  from  a 
foot  to  three  feet  high  around  its  outer  edge,  suf- 
ficient to  protect  them  from  the  fire  of  the  Indians. 

For  a  few  minutes  after  the  fire  had  swept  by  they 
lay  almost  motionless  on  the  rock  where  they  had 
thrown  themselves,  then  Captain  Tom  and  Ham 
began  cautiously  raising  themselves  up  on  their 
knees. 

"The  rest  of  you  stay  right  where  you  are,  until 
me  and  Ham  see  what  them  Indians  are  doing," 
Captain  Tom  commanded,  as  he  and  Ham  crept, 


i88        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

one  to  each  side,  and  cautiously  looked  out  over  the 
bulwark  of  rock. 

From  the  south  a  large  body  of  Indians  were  ad- 
vancing on  foot  in  the  wake  of  the  fire,  as  swiftly  as 
the  heat  from  the  still  smoldering  grass  would  allow 
them.  To  the  north  the  fire  was  still  raging,  of 
course  hiding  everything  else  in  that  direction  from 
view.  The  horses  and  mules  had  all  sought  refuge 
in  the  pond,  and  were  now  wading  and  swimming 
toward  its  opposite  side,  where  another  large  body  of 
Indians  were  waiting  to  capture  them.  Such  were 
the  scenes  that  met  the  anxious  eyes  of  Captain  Tom 
and  Ham. 

"Now  everybody  get  their  guns  ready  and  keep 
quiet  and  down  where  the  Indians  can't  see  you; 
and  we'll  give  them  there  advancing  braves  a  mighty 
unpleasant  surprise  party.  They're  expecting  to 
find  nothing  but  roasting  white  flesh,"  and  Captain 
Tom  smiled  grimly. 

The  bundle  containing  the  rifles  was  now  as 
quickly  and  as  silently  as  possible  undone;  and,  as 
fast  as  each  had  his  rifle  in  his  hand,  Captain  Tom 
or  Ham  stationed  him  along  the  south  side  of  the 
top  of  Big  Rock,  with  instructions  to  keep  down  out 
of  sight  of  the  advancing  Indians  until  the  word 
was  given. 

The  Indians  came  on  slowly,  their  eyes  on  the 
smoking  pile  of  logs  that  had  been  the  trappers'  fort, 
fearing  that  even  the  flames  had  failed  to  master 
those  terrible  white  men;  but,  when  they  came 


The  Fight  in  the  Valley  189 

near  and  still  saw  no  signs  of  life,  their  courage 
grew.  So  far  they  had  not  uttered  a  war-whoop, 
nor  made  a  sound,  but  had  crept  silently  over  the 
blackened  ground  toward  the  smoldering  wall  of 
logs  by  the  side  of  Big  Rock.  Now,  when  within 
twenty  rods  of  the  rock,  and  still  not  a  sound  not  a 
motion  from  their  dreaded  foes,  they  felt  assured 
that  the  flames  had  well  done  their  terrible  work; 
and,  unable  to  longer  control  their  impatience,  they 
yelled  their  war-whoops  and  sprang  toward  the 
rock,  eager  to  gloat  their  eyes  on  the  smoking  bodies 
of  their  enemies. 

At  that  moment  Captain  Tom  turned  to  his  com- 
rades on  the  top  of  Big  Rock. 

"Now — Steady — Take  good  aim — Ready — 
Fire !"  he  cried,  and  the  sixteen  rifles  and  the  two 
barrels  of  Pom's  shotgun  sent  their  bullets  into  the 
ranks  of  the  startled  Indians. 

For  a  moment  the  Indians  acted  as  if  stunned  by 
this  unexpected  volley,  then,  as  they  saw  their  com- 
rades falling  all  around  them,  they  whirled  about 
and  fled  in  every  direction,  a  dozen  or  more  of  them 
in  their  panic  running  straight  for  the  shelter  of 
Big  Rock,  unseen  by  the  trappers,  who  were  re- 
loading their  guns  as  swiftly  as  they  could  ram 
powder  and  ball  down  them. 

Again  our  trappers  cheered  lustily. 

After  this  second  disaster  the  Indians  were  too 
wary  to  come  within  rifle  range  of  Big  Rock;  but 
contented  themselves  with  shouting  their  defiance 


190        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

from  a  safe  distance.  They  knew  that  all  they  had 
to  do  now  was  to  wait  for  starvation  or  thirst  to 
conquer  the  dauntless  trappers. 

It  was  now  nearing  the  noon  hour  and  the  sun 
beat  down  hotly  on  the  top  of  Big  Rock.  During 
the  excitement  of  the  fight  and  the  fire  our  friends 
had  given  no  thought  to  their  physical  need;  but 
now,  when  all  was  quiet  and  they  were  safe  from 
any  immediate  danger,  all  discovered  that  they  were 
very  thirsty,  and  with  this  discovery  came  the  ter- 
rible knowledge  that  they  did  not  have  a  drop  of 
water  with  them  on  top  of  Big  Rock. 

"I'll  climb  down  th'  rope  an5  git  sum  water,  while 
you  fellers  keep  th'  Injuns  at  a  distance,"  one  of  the 
trappers  said.  "We've  got  to  have  water.  I 
reckon  I  can  find  somethin'  down  thar  in  which  to 
carry  it  up,"  and,  picking  up  the  knotted  rope,  which 
had  been  drawn  to  the  top  of  the  rock,  he  tied  one 
end  around  the  projecting  point  of  rock,  and,  drop- 
ping the  other  end  to  the  ground,  swung  himself  out 
on  the  rope  and  started  to  climb  down. 

Rex  was  standing  near  the  point  of  rock;  and, 
suddenly,  just  as  the  trapper's  head  was  about  to 
pass  below  the  edge  of  the  rock,  he  saw  a  spasm  of 
pain  and  horror  pass  over  the  face,  saw  the  hand 
gripping  the  rope  above  the  head  let  go,  the  head 
drop  downward,  and,  after  a  moment  of  horror, 
heard  the  thud  of  the  trapper's  body  when  it  hit 
the  ground  below.  The  next  instant  the  ears  of  all 
were  startled  by  the  exultant  war-whoops  of  the 


The  Fight  in  the  Valley  191 

Blackfeet  warriors,  who  had  reached  the  shelter  of 
Big  Rock  unseen  by  the  trappers  and  had  remained 
there  hidden  at  its  base. 

There  was  nothing,  absolutely  nothing,  the  trap- 
pers could  do  to  help  their  comrade.  The  exulting 
war-whoops  told  them  that  he  was  beyond  all 
earthly  help ;  and  for  one  of  them  even  to  thrust  his 
head  out  over  the  edge  of  the  rock  to  look  down, 
would  be  to  court  instant  death  from  the  arrows  or 
the  bullets  of  the  Indians  below. 

They  were  penned  on  top  of  Big  Rock ! 

There  was  no  water  procured  that  afternoon; 
and,  when  at  last  the  long  hours  of  daylight  had 
passed  slowly  away  and  the  chill  and  the  darkness 
of  night  came,  all  were  suffering  intensely  from 
thirst.  If  they  lived  they  must  have  water  before 
many  hours. 

"I  reckon  it's  up  tew  Rad  Dawson  tew  git  us  out 
of  this  hole,  or  ruther  off  th'  top  of  this  here  rock," 
Ham  said,  when  it  became  so  dark  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  see  a  rod  away  from  the  Big  Rock.  "An' 
seein'  thar's  absolutely  nuthin'  we  can  do  but  jest 
wait,  I'm  goin'  tew  try  tew  git  some  sleep,  an'  fergit 
thar's  such  a  thing  as  water,"  and  he  stretched  him- 
self out  on  the  hard  rock  and,  strange  to  say,  in  a 
few  minutes,  in  spite  of  his  thirst  and  the  cold  the 
hardy  man  was  sound  asleep. 

Nearly  all  the  other  trappers  followed  Ham's  ex- 
ample and,  like  him,  in  spite  of  the  cold  and  their 
thirst,  succeeded  in  going  to  sleep ;  but  there  was  no 


192       With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

sleep  for  Rex  and  Dill  that  night.  They  had  no 
blankets,  and,  in  addition  to  their  thirst,  which  was 
becoming  more  insistent  each  moment,  they  suffered 
greatly  from  the  cold.  Throughout  all  the  long 
hours  of  that  terrible  night  they  sat  close  together, 
their  backs  to  a  rock,  hardly  speaking  a  word,  but 
every  now  and  then  giving  each  other  a  reassuring 
clasp  of  the  hand.  Around  them,  in  the  distance, 
they  could  see  the  camp-fires  of  their  enemies  burn- 
ing brightly,  and,  until  long  after  midnight,  they 
could  hear  the  sounds  of  their  wild  orgies. 

But  the  longest,  the  most  horrible  of  nights  must 
come  to  an  end  sometime;  and,  at  last,  the  anxious 
eyes  of  Rex  and  Dill  were  gladdened  by  the  sight  of 
a  red  glow  in  the  east  that  told  them  day  was  dawn- 
ing. The  sun  would  at  least  bring  warmth;  but 
their  thirst,  the  horrible  dryness  that  was  parching 
their  tongues  and  cracking  their  lips,  what  help  was 
there  for  that  ? 

Almost  at  the  same  moment  that  the  first  rays  of 
the  morning  sun  touched  the  top  of  Big  Rock  a 
volley  of  rifle  shots  broke  the  stillness  of  the  early 
morning;  and  the  Indians  in  the  lower  end  of  the 
valley  were  seen  to  be  in  the  wildest  commotion.  A 
moment  later  there  came  another  rifle  volley,  then 
another,  followed  by  loud  cheers,  and  then  a  con- 
fused mass  of  Indians  rushed  out  of  the  narrows  at 
the  southern  end  of  the  valley  and  fled  northward 
in  every  direction,  some  mounted  on  horses  and 
others  running,  but  all  in  a  great  panic. 


The  Fight  in  the  Valley  193 

"It's  Rad  and  a  brigade  of  trappers !"  cried  Cap- 
tain Tom,  leaping  joyously  to  his  feet  at  the  sound 
of  the  first  rifle  volley.  "I  knowed  he'd  bring  us 
help.  Hurrah!"  and  all  joined  in  the  hurrah  as 
loudly  as  their  parched  and  cracked  throats  and  lips 
would  permit. 

"They've  got  'em  stampeded!"  shouted  Ham  a 
moment  later,  as  the  Indians  broke  and  fled  north- 
ward. "An'  thar  they  come !  Hurra ! !  Hurra ! ! !" 
he  yelled,  swinging  his  hat  wildly  around  his  head, 
as  a  compact  body  of  wild  looking  men  dressed  in 
deerskins,  sprang  into  sight  in  the  lower  end  of  the 
valley,  and,  yelling  and  shooting  at  the  fleeing  In- 
dians, swept  northward  straight  toward  the  Big 
Rock. 

In  their  excitement  and  joy  at  their  deliverance 
our  trappers  gave  no  thought  to  the  Indians  con- 
cealed at  the  base  of  Big  Rock;  and  they  fled  north- 
ward without  a  shot  being  fired  at  them  by  our 
friends  on  the  top  of  the  rock. 

With  loud  cheers,  the  trappers,  one  hundred  and 
fifty  strong,  swept  on  up  the  valley,  coming  as 
swiftly  as  they  could  make  their  sturdy  little  horses 
run ;  and  before  them,  as  fast  as  horse  legs  and  man 
legs  could  carry  them,  fled  the  Indians  to  the  north- 
ern outlet  of  the  valley,  where  they  rallied  behind 
the  rocks  of  the  defile  and  yelled  their  defiance  to 
the  trappers. 

"Now,  let's  give  them  a  volley  and  a  cheer,  just  to 
let  them  know  that  we're  still  alive  and  mighty  glad 


194         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

to  see  them,"  Captain  Tom  cried,  as  the  band  of 
trappers  came  nearer.  "Everybody  ready!  One 
two — three — Fire !" 

All,  at  the  command  of  Captain  Tom,  had  sprung 
to  their  feet,  their  rifles  to  their  shoulders,  and,  at 
the  word,  fire,  every  rifle  banged  joyously  and  again 
the  two  barrels  of  Pom's  old  shotgun  boomed  loudly, 
while  the  lusty  cheers  that  followed  cracked  their 
parched  lips  until  the  blood  ran. 

The  advancing  trappers  answered  with  loud 
shouts  and  a  rifle  volley,  and  came  dashing  on  to- 
ward the  Big  Rock  faster  than  ever. 

At  the  head  of  the  brigade  of  trappers  rode  a  man 
on  a  large  gray  horse.  For  sometime  the  eyes  of  Rex 
and  Dill  had  been  on  this  man.  Both  were  wonder- 
ing if  the  leader  of  the  band  of  trappers  might  not 
be  the  man  they  were  so  anxious  to  see — Kit  Car- 
son. At  last  Dill  could  contain  his  impatience  no 
longer,  and  he  turned  to  Hammer  Jones. 

"Isn't  that  man  on  the  big  horse  Kit  Carson?"  he 
asked.  "He  looks  something  like  the  way  father 
described  Kit." 

"He  sure  does  look  some  like  Kit,"  Ham  an- 
swered; "but  I  can't  jest  make  out  for  sartin  who 
he  is  yit." 

At  that  moment  the  man  on  the  gray  horse  turned 
in  his  saddle  to  give  an  order  to  his  men,  and  Ham, 
for  a  moment,  caught  a  clear  view  of  his  profile,  and 
his  face  lighted  up. 

"It's  Jim  Bridger  an'  his  trappers!"  he  declared 


The  Fight  in  the  Valley  195 

joyously.  "Now  let's  git  down  off  this  rock  as  fast 
as  th'  good  Lord  '11  let  us,  git  some  water  inside  of 
us,  an'  be  ready  tew  welcome  them,"  and  he  swung 
the  knotted  rope,  one  end  of  which  was  still  fastened 
to  the  projecting  point  of  rock,  down  to  the  ground, 
and,  catching  hold  of  it,  began  rapidly  to  descend. 

Rex  and  Dill  and  Pom  were  not  allowed  to  climb 
down  the  rope  until  all  the  trappers  had  reached  the 
ground.  This  gave  Captain  Tom  and  Ham  time  to 
remove  and  cover  the  horribly  mutilated  remains  of 
the  trapper  the  Indians  had  killed ;  and  all  the  boys 
saw  of  the  corpse  was  its  outline  as  it  lay  concealed 
under  a  partly  burned  blanket.  They  buried  the 
unfortunate  trapper  at  the  base  of  the  southern  side 
of  Big  Rock,  and  one  of  the  trappers  cut  his  name 
and  the  date  of  his  death  into  the  rock  with  his 
hunting-knife — a  fitting  monument  to  the  rugged 
manhood  lying  at  its  base. 

The  moment  Rex  and  Dill  reached  the  ground, 
they  hurried  to  the  spring  and  slaked  their  burning 
thirst  with  long  drafts  of  cool  water.  Then  they 
were  ready  to  give  their  attention  to  the  on-coming 
trappers. 

"Why,  they  look  more  like  Indians  than  they  do 
like  white  men !"  Rex  declared,  as  the  wild  looking 
knights  of  the  mountains  came  dashing  up  to  the 
Big  Rock,  yelling  and  flourishing  their  long  rifles 
about  their  heads,  and  making  no  attempt  to  stop 
the  headlong  rush  of  their  horses  until  they  were 
almost  upon  our  little  party  of  trappers,  when  they 


196         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

brought  them  to  a  halt  with  a  suddenness  that  threw 
the  animals  back  on  their  haunches,  and,  leaping 
from  their  saddles,  crowded  tumultuously  around 
Captain  Tom  and  his  men. 

And,  indeed,  Rex  had  not  inaptly  described  these 
wild  free  men  of  the  plains  and  the  mountains  when 
he  declared  they  looked  more  like  Indians  than  they 
did  like  whitemen.  Many  of  them  had  lived  in  the 
wilderness  for  years,  without  even  a  glimpse  of  the 
rough  civilization  of  the  settlements,  and  all  of  them 
had  been  trapping  for  months,  and,  consequently, 
their  equipments  were  in  a  picturesque  condition  of 
dilapidation. 

They  were  dressed  in  long  loose  coats  of  deerskin, 
tied  in  front  with  leather  thongs,  deerskin  trousers 
and  leggins  and  Indian  moccasins.  On  their  heads 
were  skin  caps,  usually  with  the  tails  of  the  animals 
from  whose  fur  they  were  made  hanging  down  be- 
hind. All  of  these  garments  were  of  their  own  rude 
manufacture ;  and  their  soiled  and  worn  appearance 
spoke  convincingly  of  the  rough  life  their  wearers 
had  been  living.  Under  the  right  arm  of  each 
swung  his  powder  horn  and  bullet  pouches,  while  the 
broad  belt  around  his  waist  held  his  hunting-knife, 
sheathed  in  buffalo  hide,  a  small  hatchet,  and  a 
pocket-like  buckskin  case  containing  a  whetstone, 
spare  flints,  steel,  an  awl  for  mending  purposes,  and 
various  little  odds  and  ends.  Their  long-barreled 
rifles  were  held  in  their  hands,  where  they  would 
be  ready  for  instant  use. 


The  Fight  in  the  Valley  197 

Did  you  ever  stop  to  think,  boys,  how  much 
America,  your  country  owes  to  these  same  long- 
barreled  rifles?  They  protected  the  lives  and  fed 
and  clothed  the  bodies  of  the  pioneers,  the  hunters 
and  the  trappers,  as  they  tracked  the  way  for  civili- 
zation from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific.  When  they 
needed  food,  they  shot  it  with  their  rifles.  When 
they  required  clothing,  they  found  it  on  the  backs  of 
animals  they  killed  with  their  rifles.  When  their 
lives  were  threatened  by  wild  beasts  or  wild  Indians, 
again  it  was  their  rifles  that  killed  or  drove  off  the 
beasts  or  the  Indians  and  protected  their  lives. 
With  this  rifle  in  his  hand,  the  American  pioneer 
was  independent,  having  the  wherewithal  to  feed 
and  cloth  his  body  and  to  protect  his  life,  and  dared 
go  anywhere;  without  it  he  would  have  been  help- 
less on  the  great  plains  and  in  the  mountains  and 
woods.  Rifleless  he  could  not  have  existed  a  week 
in  the  wilderness. 

Now  this  same  long-barreled  rifle,  this  provider 
and  protector  of  our  forefathers,  this  pronouncer 
of  the  doom  of  savagery  and  the  herald  of  civiliza- 
tion, is,  as  all  things  must  be  some  day,  an  ancient 
thing,  relegated  to  the  museum  and  the  garret. 
Doubtless,  even,  many  of  the  boys  who  read  this 
story  never  saw  one  of  these  "ancient"  weapons, 
and  have  at  best  but  an  inadequate  picture  in  their 
minds  of  the  gun  itself,  when  they  read  of  the  long- 
barreled  rifles  of  the  trappers ;  and  for  such,  in  order 
that  they  may  know  just  what  sort  of  a  weapon  Rex 


198         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

and  Dill  and  their  good  friends,  the  trappers,  car- 
ried, that  they  may  know  what  this  protector  and 
provider  of  the  wilderness  looked  like,  a  brief  pen 
picture  of  the  "ancient"  weapon  is  here  given. 

Take,  for  the  illustration,  the  rifle  of  Hammer 
Jones.  It  was  a  good  rifle,  of  that  you  may  be  sure, 
and  typical  of  all  the  rifles  of  that  period.  The  bar- 
rel was  a  little  over  four  feet  long,  thick  and  heavy, 
and  the  stock  strongly  curved  downward,  so  that 
the  sights  came  up  to  the  level  of  the  eye  easily  and 
quickly.  A  brass  patch-box  was  set  in  the  right 
hand  side  of  the  stock,  in  which  Ham  kept  the  little 
pieces  of  greased  cloth  or  other  material,  which  he 
wrapped  around  the  bullets  to  make  them  fit  the 
bore  tightly  before  he  rammed  them  down  the  bar- 
rel. The  lock  was  a  flint-lock,  that  is  it  was  fired 
by  sparks  struck  from  a  small  piece  of  flint  held  by 
the  hammer.  The  sights  hugged  the  barrel  closely, 
the  fore  sight  being  made  of  silver  and  shaped 
something  like  a  crescent,  and  the  rear  sight  con- 
sisting of  a  flat  finely  notched  bar  twelve  inches 
from  the  breech  of  the  barrel.  Beneath  the  lock 
was  a  delicately  arranged  set-trigger,  that  enabled 
the  gun  to  be  fired  with  so  slight  a  pressure  that  the 
aim  was  not  disturbed  in  the  least.  The  ball  was 
round  and  small,  some  forty  to  the  pound.  The 
ramrod,  which  Ham  himself  had  whittled  out  with 
the  utmost  care  from  a  straight-grained  piece  of 
hickory  wood,  was  carried  in  metal  pipes  fastened 


The  Fight  in  the  Valley  199 

to  the  long  wooden  stock  that  extended  under  the 
barrel  almost  to  the  muzzle. 

Such,  then,  was  the  appearance  of  this  famous 
long-barreled  rifle  of  the  western  trappers,  a  weapon 
of  deadly  accuracy  in  skilled  hands. 

For  a  few  minutes  after  the  meeting  of  the  two 
bands  of  trappers  there  was  so  much  excitement  and 
confusion,  so  much  congratulatory  hand  shaking 
and  clapping  on  the  backs,  so  many  questions  to  be 
asked  and  answered,  that  Rex  and  Dill  had  no 
thoughts  for  anything  else;  but,  presently  the  ex- 
citement began  to  quiet  down,  and  then  both  boys 
turned  eagerly  to  Hammer  Jones. 

"Is  Kit  Carson  with  them?"  Rex  asked,  his  eyes 
searching  anxiously  the  bronzed  faces  of  the 
trappers. 

"No,"  Ham  replied.  "If  Kit  had  been  with  them 
we'd  a-heard  from  him  afore  now." 

"But,"  broke  in  Dill  eagerly,  "some  of  them  may 
know  where  we  can  find  him." 

"That  might  be,"  assented  Ham.  "An'  if  any  on 
'em  knows  whar  Kit  is,  'twill  be  Jim  Bridger. 
Come  'long;  we'll  ask  Jim,"  and,  followed  by  the 
two  anxious  boys,  Ham  started  to  where  Bridger 
stood  talking  with  Captain  Tom. 

Jim  Bridger  at  this  date,  he  was  only  twenty- 
eight  years  old,  had  not  yet  reached  the  fullness  of 
his  after  fame  as  a  trapper,  hunter,  scout,  Indian 
fighter  and  guide ;  but  he  was  already  known  among 


200         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

the  hardy  veterans  of  the  mountains  and  the  plains, 
where  leadership  could  be  won  only  by  fearlessness 
and  skill,  as  one  of  the  boldest  and  most  successful 
of  the  leaders  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  Fur  Company. 

"Here  are  tew  boys  from  New  Oceans,  Jim,  who 
are  mighty  anxious  tew  find  Kit  Carson/'  Ham  an- 
nounced, as  he  and  the  boys  reached  the  place  where 
the  two  leaders  of  the  trappers  stood  talking;  "an' 
I  told  'em  you  was  th'  man  tew  come  tew  for  that 
kind  of  information." 

"Yes,"  explained  Captain  Tom,  "we've  been  sent 
out  by  Captain  Young  to  find  Kit  Carson  for  these 
boys.  They've  got  a  message  for  him  from  Noel 
Conroyal.  Maybe  you  knowed  Con,  Jim  ?  One  of 
the  lads  is  Con's  boy,  Dill,  and  the  other  is  his 
nephew,  Rex  Holt,"  and  Captain  Tom  pointed  to 
each  boy  as  he  mentioned  his  name. 

"Know  Con — Conroyal?  Wai,  I  reckon  I  do!" 
and  Bridger  caught  hold  of  Dill's  hand  and  shook 
it  warmly.  "An'  mighty  glad  I  am  tew  see  his  boy 
an'  nephey,"  and  he  grabbed  the  hand  of  Rex.  "On 
th'  hunt  fer  Kit  Carson,  be  you?  Wai,  Kit's  trap- 
pin'  sumwhar  'long  th'  head  waters  of  th'  Missoury ; 
but  only  th'  good  Lord  could  tell  whar  tew  find  him 
afore  th'  rendezvous  next  summer.  Kit's  sartin 
tew  be  thar.  So  I  reckon  th'  best  thing  fer  you  tew 
do,"  and  he  turned  to  Captain  Tom,  "is  tew  j'in  us. 
We're  on  our  way  tew  winter  quarters  'bout  fifty 
miles  further  up  th'  Sweetwater,  an'  we'll  be  power- 
ful pleased  tew  have  you  an'  yer  men  go  'long  with 


The  Fight  in  the  Valley  201 

us,  an'  spend  th'  winter  thar  with  us  in  our  winter 
quarters." 

For  a  minute  or  two  Captain  Tom  studied  the 
situation  before  answering,  then  he  turned  to 
Bridger. 

"Thank  you,  Jim,"  he  said.  "We  will  go  'long 
with  you.  Now  let's  see  what  the  fire  and  the  In- 
dians have  left  us,"  and  he  turned  to  examine  what 
remained  of  the  little  fort  and  its  contents. 

The  two  tents  had  been  burnt  to  the  ground  and 
about  half  of  the  blankets  had  been  ruined.  The 
mule-packs  and  the  furs  they  had  caught  had  been 
piled  in  one  of  the  tents,  and  over  these  had  been 
thrown  the  dozen  or  more  buffalo  skins,  taken  from 
the  animals  they  had  killed  during  the  great  buffalo 
hunt.  The  heat  had  spoiled  nearly  all  the  buffalo 
skins;  but  the  packs  and  furs  were  almost  unin- 
jured. The  Indians,  apparently,  had  touched 
nothing,  doubtless  on  account  of  their  fear  of  the 
rifles  on  the  top  of  Big  Rock. 

Rex  and  Dill,  with  Pom  by  their  sides,  were 
looking  anxiously  through  the  pile  of  packs  for  their 
own  pack,  to  see  if  all  their  belongings  were  safe, 
when  Pom,  who  was  helping  them  move  some  of  the 
packs,  suddenly  straightened  up  with  a  wild  yell  of 
terror  and  went  sprawling  backward  over  a  pile  of 
beaver  furs.  At  the  same  moment  the  pack  that 
Pom  had  been  about  to  lift  was  pushed  aside,  and 
with  a  glad  whine,  Buster,  the  grizzly  bear  cub, 
rushed  to  the  side  of  Rex. 


202         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

Both  boys  welcomed  the  animal  with  a  glad 
shout,  and  Rex  threw  his  arms  around  the  shaggy 
neck  and  hugged  him  tightly,  Buster  showing  his 
joy  in  his  own  bearish  way;  for  the  bear  had  be- 
come very  dear  to  Rex,  especially  since  he  had  saved 
White  Cloud  from  the  Blackfoot  Indian. 

"Now,  if  I  only  had  White  Cloud  back,"  Rex 
said,  as  he  straightened  up,  "if  I  only  had  White 
Cloud  back,  I'd  be  a  happy  boy.  I  don't  believe  I 
can  ever  find  another  horse  like  White  Cloud;  and 
— and  he  was  just  getting  so  that  he  knew  and  liked 
me,"  and  the  boy's  voice  trembled  and  tears  came 
into  his  eyes  as  he  thought  of  White  Otter's  noble 
gift. 

But  White  Cloud,  together  with  all  the  other 
horses  and  mules  of  our  trappers,  had  vanished 
with  the  Indians. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

[WINTER    QUARTERS 

THE  Indians  still  occupied  the  pass  in  the  north 
end  of  the  valley ;  but  Bridger  and  his  trappers 
had  traveled  all  night,  in  their  haste  to  get  to  the 
valley;  and,  now  that  they  had  rescued  Captain 
Tom  and  his  men,  they  felt  more  like  sleeping  than 
they  did  like  fighting;  and  so  no  move  was  made  to 
dislodge  the  Blackfeet. 

"If  they're  thar  in  th'  mornin',  we'll  git  after 
them/'  Jim  Bridger  said.  "But,  if  I  know  Black- 
foot  nater,  they've  had  all  th'  fight  they  want,  an' 
thar  won't  be  one  on  'em  within  twenty  miles  of  har 
by  tew-morrow's  sunup.  Now  we'll  jest  git  all  th' 
sleep  we  can  an*  be  ready  tew  git  out  of  har  tew- 


morrer." 


Accordingly  guards  were  stationed,  and  the  tired 
trappers  stretched  themselves  out  on  their  blankets ; 
and  soon  forgot  their  weariness  and  battles  in  sleep. 

Rex  and  Dill,  it  will  be  remembered  that  they,  too, 
had  passed  a  sleepless  night,  now  that  the  excite- 
ment was  over,  found  it  next  to  impossible  to  keep 
their  tired  eyes  open,  and,  in  a  short  time  they  fol- 
lowed the  example  of  the  trappers,  and  were  soon 
away  from  all  their  hardships  and  dangers  in  the 

203 


204        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

pleasant  Land  of  Dreams.  And  so  wearied  in  bod- 
ies and  minds  were  the  two  boys  that  they  slept 
soundly  all  through  the  remainder  of  that  day  and 
the  following  night,  and  never  once  woke  up,  until 
the  sun  of  the  next  day  was  beginning  to  lighten  the 
tops  of  the  eastern  mountains. 

It  was  still  quite  dark  when  Rex  jumped  out  of 
his  blanket  the  next  morning  and  hurried  to  the 
pond  to  wash  his  face  and  hands.  As  he  bent  over 
the  water  he  heard  the  distant  nicker  of  a  horse, 
coming  from  toward  the  north  end  of  the  pond, 
away  from  where  the  horses  of  the  trappers  were 
corralled. 

"It  must  be  a  horse  that  has  escaped  from  the  In- 
dians," thought  Rex,  as  he  straightened  up  and 
looked  in  the  direction  of  the  sound. 

At  first  he  could  see  nothing.  Then,  as  his  eyes 
became  more  accustomed  to  the  morning  light,  he 
saw,  standing  on  a  little  knoll,  about  twenty  rods 
away,  near  the  north  end  of  the  pond,  the  dim  out- 
line of  a  horse.  At  the  first  glimpse  of  the  horse 
something  familiar  in  the  way  the  animal  stood 
caused  the  blood  to  jump  in  the  boy's  veins ;  and  the 
next  moment  he  was  racing  madly  toward  the  knoll ; 
and  two  minutes  later  his  arms  were  around  the 
neck  of  White  Cloud,  and  he  was  laughing  and 
shouting,  yes,  and  crying,  at  least  there  were  tears 
in  his  eyes,  while  White  Cloud  was  rubbing  his  nose 
softly  against  his  young  master  and  in  other  horse- 
ways  was  trying  to  show  how  pleased  he  was  to  see 


Winter  Quarters  205 

him.  In  a  few  minutes  more  a  crowd  of  excited 
trappers  had  gathered  around  Rex  and  White 
Cloud;  and,  when  it  was  discovered  that  the  horse 
had  been  fastened  by  a  rope  around  his  neck  to  a 
picket  firmly  driven  into  the  ground,  showing  that 
the  beautiful  animal  had  been  purposely  left  by  the 
Indians,  their  astonishment  was  very  great;  and 
Rex  had  an  intensely  interested  audience,  as  he  told 
Jim  Bridger  and  his  trappers  how  he  had  rescued 
the  Blackfoot  chief,  White  Otter,  from  the  Buffalo 
bull,  at  the  sacrifice  of  his  horse,  and  how  the  young 
chief  had  given  him  White  Cloud  to  replace  the 
horse  he  had  lost,  and  how,  doubtless,  it  was  he  who 
had  now  returned  the  beautiful  animal  to  him  again. 

"An'  thar's  th'  chief's  sign  manuel,"  supple- 
mented Hammer  Jones,  as  he  stepped  up  to  White 
Cloud  and  laid  his  hand  on  an  otter  skin  firmly  tied 
to  the  hair  of  the  horse's  mane.  "Now,  I  reckon, 
that  thar  Ingine  otter  have  been  born  white." 

Rex  was  a  very  happy  boy  as  he  led  White  Cloud 
back  to  camp  and  picketed  him  near  the  Big  Rock. 

As  soon  as  it  became  daylight  scouts  were  sent 
out  to  see  if  the  Indians  were  still  in  the  pass  at  the 
north  end  of  the  valley.  They  found  that  Jim 
Bridger  had  proved  a  true  prophet;  for  not  an  In- 
dian was  to  be  found  anywhere.  They  had  fled 
during  the  darkness  of  the  night,  and  were  now, 
doubtless,  many  miles  away. 

On  the  return  of  the  scouts  orders  were  at  once 
given  to  break  camp;  and,  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 


206         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

the  long  cavalcade  of  trappers  was  riding  slowly  out 
of  the  Valley  of  the  Big  Rock,  on  its  way  to  winter 
quarters. 

Bridger  and  his  trappers  had  very  nearly  evened 
matters  up  with  the  Indians  for  our  friends  in  the 
way  of  horse-flesh;  for  they  had  captured  forty 
sturdy  little  ponies  from  the  Blackfeet;  and  these, 
with  the  hearty  generosity  of  the  West,  they  had 
given  to  Captain  Tom  and  his  trappers  to  replace 
the  horses  and  mules  they  had  lost,  so  that  all  had 
horses  to  ride  and  to  carry  their  packs. 

It  was  now  the  last  of  September,  and  in  that  re- 
gion the  first  week  in  October  often  saw  a  heavy  fall 
of  snow  that  would  make  the  mountains  almost  im- 
passable to  man  and  beast.  Consequently  Jim 
Bridger  was  anxious  to  get  the  brigade  of  trappers 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  place  where  they  ex- 
pected to  go  into  camp  for  the  winter  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible. Once  there,  they  could  trap  through  the  sur- 
rounding country,  until  the  rigors  of  winter  forced 
them  to  desist,  when  they  would  be  prepared  to  go 
into  permanent  camp  and  make  themselves  comfort- 
able for  the  winter. 

Rex  and  Dill,  before  passing  through  the  narrows 
in  the  lower  end  of  the  valley,  turned  in  their  sad- 
dles for  a  last  look  at  the  scene  of  their  battle  with 
the  fierce  Blackfeet  warriors.  All  now  looked 
serene  and  peaceful.  The  placid  waters  of  the 
pond  shone  like  a  mirror  in  the  bright  rays  of  the 
morning  sun.  The  blackened  path  of  the  fire,  and 


Winter  Quarters  207 

the  ruins  of  the  little  fort  around  the  Big  Rock  alone 
spoke  of  the  fierce  conflict  that  had  raged  there  but 
a  few  hours  before.  As  their  eyes  rested  on  the 
Big  Rock  the  hearts  of  both  boys  saddened;  for 
there  at  its  base  they  had  left  a  comrade  in  his  lonely 
grave.  And  yet  they  could  but  feel  that  the  trapper 
had  found  a  most  fitting  resting-place,  with  the  huge 
rock,  an  everlasting  monument,  towering  above  his 
body,  in  the  midst  of  a  beautiful  valley,  surrounded 
by  the  mountains  that  he  had  loved  so  well;  and 
both  lads  felt  like  saying  amen  to  the  words  of  Ham, 
as  the  big  trapper  turned  for  a  last  look  at  the  grave 
of  his  comrade. 

"I  reckon  that's  'bout  th5  spot  Dan  would  have 
picked  out,  thar  by  the  side  of  that  great  rock,  whar 
th'  mountains'll  be  all  around  him,  if  he  could  have 
had  his  ch'ice,"  he  said,  as  his  eyes  grew  pensive. 
"Dan  always  did  love  th'  mountains.  But  'tain't 
no  use  spec'latin'  on  th'  feelin'  of  th'  dead,"  and  he 
resolutely  turned  his  head  away  from  the  Big  Rock 
and  the  lonely  grave  of  the  trapper. 

All  that  day  and  all  the  next  day  Bridger  led  his 
trappers  up  the  valley  of  the  Sweetwater,  and  then 
on  the  morning  of  the  third  day  he  turned  aside 
from  the  river,  passed  through  the  southern  spur 
of  the  Bighorn  Mountains,  and  about  the  middle  of 
the  afternoon  of  that  day  came  to  a  large  but  se- 
cluded valley,  sheltered  from  the  storms  of  winter 
by  the  lofty  peaks  of  the  Wind  River  Mountains  on 
the  west  and  the  rugged  walls  of  the  lofty  Bighorn 


2o8        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

Mountains  on  the  north  and  east.  A  stream  of 
water  that  the  trappers  called  Elk  Creek,  flowed 
through  the  center  of  the  valley,  the  ground  was 
covered  with  a  thick  carpet  of  grass,  and  here  and 
there  over  its  surface  and  along  the  shores  of  the 
rivulet  were  little  groves  of  trees.  An  abundance 
of  water,  wood  and  grass,  protection  from  the  fierce- 
est  blasts  of  the  winter's  storms — Jim  Bridger  had 
chosen  well  the  place  for  his  winter  encampment,  for 
this  was  the  valley  where  he  had  elected  to  make  his 
winter  quarters. 

That  night  the  weather  turned  cold,  so  cold  that 
in  the  morning  ice  an  inch  thick  covered  a  small 
beaver  pond  near  the  spot  where  they  had  pitched 
camp,  and  the  distant  tops  of  the  Wind  River  Moun- 
tains were  white  with  new-fallen  snow. 

"I  reckon  we  got  here  jest  in  time,"  Ham  said,  as 
he  and  the  two  boys  stood  looking  at  the  snow- 
covered  mountains  that  morning.  "Them  clouds 
hangin'  round  th'  mountain  tops  means  more  snow 
an'  th'  air's  got  th'  feel  of  winter  in  it.  But  I  reckon 
we  can  make  ourselves  mighty  comfortable  here;" 
and  his  eyes  glanced  around  the  valley.  "We'll  git 
right  tew  work  an'  build  us  a  snug  little  house,  as 
soon  as  Jim  an'  Captain  Tom  have  decided  jest  whar 
tew  make  th'  permanent  camp." 

Captain  Tom  and  Jim  Bridger  spent  the  morning 
looking  the  valley  over  for  the  best  place  to  make 
their  winter  camp;  and  finally  decided  on  a  little 
grove  of  trees,  some  ten  acres  in  extent,  that  covered 


Winter  Quarters  209 

the  rounded  top  of  a  small  hill.  A  spring  of  water 
bubbled  up  from  a  depression  near  the  top  of  this 
hill  and  wound  its  way  down  to  the  waters  of  Elk 
Creek,  not  more  than  twenty  rods  away,  while  the 
surrounding  valley,  for  a  distance  of  a  couple  of 
hundred  yards  or  more,  presented  no  shelter  that 
might  be  used  by  an  enemy  to  protect  them  in  an 
attack  on  the  camp,  a  possibility  that  our  trappers 
must  never  overlook. 

The  next  three  days  all  were  busy  getting  the 
camp  in  shape  for  the  winter.  A  space  some  ten 
rods  square  was  cleared  near  the  center  of  the  little 
woods;  and  along  the  north  and  east  sides  of  this 
little  opening  the  trappers  built  their  huts  from  the 
logs  of  the  trees  which  their  sharp  axes  cut  down, 
thatching  them  with  long  strips  of  bark  weighted 
down  with  poles.  Along  the  west  side  of  the  open- 
ing they  built  a  long  covered  shed,  to  protect  their 
animals  from  the  cold  and  the  snow.  The  enclos- 
ure of  the  opening  was  completed  by  building  a 
strong  wall  of  logs  six  feet  high  along  the  south 
side,  a  large  gate  being  made  in  this  wall  through 
which  the  horses  could  be  driven  to  and  from  their 
pasture.  A  strong  fence,  running  diagonally  from 
the  northwest  corner  to  the  southeast  corner,  divided 
the  enclosure  into  two  parts,  the  part  containing  the 
shed  being,  of  course,  for  the  horses,  and  the  other 
for  the  use  of  the  men;  for  it  would  be  necessary 
to  corral  and  guard  the  horses  every  night  to  pro- 
tect them  from  the  bears  and  the  mountain  lions  as 


2io         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

well  as  from  thieving  Indians,  and  it  would  not  do 
to  give  the  animals  the  full  liberty  of  the  enclosure, 
hence  the  fence  separating  the  camp  of  the  men 
from  the  corral  of  the  horses.  Loopholes,  about 
six  feet  apart,  were  made  through  the  walls  all 
around  the  enclosure,  so  that  in  case  of  an  attack  by 
the  Indians  the  encampment  could  be  quickly  trans- 
formed into  a  fort. 

When  this  had  all  been  done  there  was  left  only 
a  thin  fringe  of  surrounding  trees,  through  which, 
when  cleared  of  all  underbrush  and  stumps  and 
logs,  the  valley  beyond  could  be  clearly  seen,  and 
which,  even  should  they  succeed  in  reaching  it, 
would  give  attacking  Indians  but  little  protection. 

Thus  the  camp  was  speedily  put  into  condition, 
not  only  to  protect  our  trappers  from  the  cold  and 
the  storms  of  winter,  but  also  to  guard  against  any 
possible  attack  by  the  Indians. 

These  had  been  intensely  interesting  and  busy 
days  for  Rex  and  Dill.  There  was  their  own  log 
hut  to  build  and  to  make  as  comfortable  as  possible 
for  the  winter.  In  this  they  were  assisted  by  Ham- 
mer Jones  and  Rad  Dawson  and  Pom,  who  were 
to  be  their  camp  mates;  and  both  lads  had  worked 
with  unfaltering  enthusiasm  until  their  little  house, 
with  its  skin-covered  sleeping  bunks  of  sweet- 
scented  balsam  boughs,  its  smooth  dirt  floor,  its 
chunks  of  logs  for  chairs,  its  tight  walls  of  logs  and 
roof  of  bark,  really  did  look  very  comfortable  and 
cozy,  especially  at  night  time  when  a  crackling  fire 


Winter  Quarters  211 

was  blazing  in  the  center  of  its  one  room,  the  sparks 
and  smoke  shooting  upward  through  a  small  hole 
made  in  the  center  of  the  roof  and  its  ruddy  light 
glowing  warmly  on  the  faces  of  the  occupants  and 
on  the  rough  log  walls  of  the  cabin.  And  then  there 
was  the  pride  of  personal  achievement  and  owner- 
ship in  all  this.  They  had  helped  to  make  the  house 
with  their  own  hands,  and  it  was  theirs. 

"I  don't  suppose  mother  and  the  girls  would  think 
this  much  for  comfort/'  Dill  said,  when  at  last  the 
hut  was  completed  near  the  close  of  the  third  day, 
as  he  lifted  the  bearskin  door  and  looked  in;  "but 
really,  I  don't  see  how  we  could  wish  for  anything 
more  comfortable  and  cozy  than  this." 

"We  don't!"  was  the  emphatic  rejoinder  of  Rex. 
"If  by  just  waving  my  hand  I  could  replace  this 
little  house  that  we  have  helped  to  make  with  our 
own  hands,  with  one  of  the  best  houses  in  New  Or- 
leans, I  would  not  make  the  wave.  It  would  not 
seem  natural  or  right  to  live  any  other  way  than 
this,  with  these  great  silent  mountains  standing 
guard  all  around  us.  I  am  perfectly  satisfied  with 
our  house  just  as  it  is ;  and  I  think  it  is  going  to  be 
great  living  here  all  winter  long,  with  nothing  to  do 
but  just  to  enjoy  ourselves." 

"Jest  a  winter  picnic,"  laughed  Ham,  who  was 
standing  near.  "But,  I  reckon,  'twon't  be  all  playin' 
an'  no  workin'.  'Twill  take  considerable  meat  tew 
feed  all  these  mouths,  which  means  a  lot  of  trampin' 
over  these  mountains  a-lookin'  for  it.'; 


I 


212         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

"But  that  means  hunting  buffalos,  and  deer,  and 
bears,  and  mountain  sheep,  and  other  things,"  broke 
in  Rex  his  eyes  sparkling.  "And  who  would  ever 
think  of  hunting  as  working?" 

"Wai/'  and  again  Ham  laughed,  "I'm  powerful 
glad  tew  see  you  yunks  a-tryin'  tew  make  th'  best  of 
a  mighty  good  thing.  Accordin'  tew  my  notion 
thar  ain't  no  kind  of  livin'  anywhar  else  that  jest 
measures  right  up  tew  th'  bigness  of  living  wild-like 
in  these  here  mountains.  Now,  whar  else  on  arth 
could  you  see  a  picter  th'  equal  of  that?"  and  Ham 
pointed  with  one  hand  across  the  valley  to  where  the 
sun  was  sinking  in  a  red  glory  of  clouds  behind  the 
distant  snow-covered  peaks  of  the  Wind  River 
Mountains. 

And,  indeed,  it  was  a  wonderful  and  glorious 
scene  toward  which  the  hand  of  Ham  was  pointing 
and  the  eyes  of  all  were  looking.  Flanked  on  either 
side  by  masses  of  storm  clouds,  the  sun  hung  just 
above  a  particularly  wild  and  rugged  mountain 
peak,  glowing  like  a  mighty  beacon-fire,  and  color- 
ing with  the  magic  brush  of  its  rays  the  flanking 
storm  clouds  until  the  glory  of  their  blending  hues 
was  beyond  the  power  of  words  to  picture,  and 
transforming  the  snow-  and  ice-covered  peak  into 
an  iridescent  jeweled  point,  sparkling  with  diamonds 
and  glowing  with  rubies  and  topazes  and  opalescent 
with  pearls. 

"  'Pears  like  de  good  Lo'd  hab  done  throwed  open 
de  golden  gates  ob  hebben,  jes'  fo'  to  gib  us  a 


Winter  Quarters  213 

glimpse  ob  de  glories  beyond,"  Pom  said  reverently, 
his  eyes  on  the  wondrous  scene. 

And  everyone  of  those  rugged  trappers  felt  like 
saying  amen  to  the  sentiment  expressed  in  the  negro 
boy's  homely  words. 

The  next  morning,  when  Rex  and  Dill  opened 
their  eyes,  there  seemed  to  be  an  unwonted  stillness 
in  the  air  outside,  as  if  all  nature  were  asleep.  Even 
the  noises  made  by  the  horses,  moving  uneasily  in 
their  shed,  had  a  far-off  muffled  sound,  as  if  many 
heavy  blankets  had  been  hung  between  them  and  the 
horse  corral  during  the  night.  For  a  few  minutes, 
the  two  boys  lay  wondering  what  the  unusual  silence 
meant ;  then  Rex  threw  off  his  bearskin  comforters, 
and,  jumping  out  of  his  bunk,  hurried  to  the  door- 
way, and,  pulling  aside  the  heavy  grizzly  bear  skin 
that  did  duty  for  a  door,  looked  out. 

"Hurrah !"  he  yelled,  the  moment  his  eyes  caught 
sight  of  the  scene  outside.  "Everything  is  covered 
with  snow ;  and  the  snow  is  falling  so  thick  that  it 
looks  as  if  the  air  was  just  made  out  of  great  white 
snowflakes.  Why,  I  can't  see  even  a  sign  of  the 
horse  corral!  I  must  get  out  into  it,  and  see  how 
White  Cloud  is  faring,"  and  he  hastened  back  to  his 
bunk  to  slip  on  his  outdoor  clothing. 

Rex  and  Dill  had  been  born  in  New  Orleans  and 
had  always  lived  in  New  Orleans ;  and  this  expedi- 
tion in  search  of  Kit  Carson  was  their  first  venture 
into  the  northlands  of  cold  and  ice  and  snow.  Con- 
sequently this  was  the  first  big  snow  storm  that  the 


214         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

lads  had  ever  seen,  the  first  time  they  had  ever  been 
able  to  wade  and  plunge  and  tumble  about,  as  boys 
will  ever  delight  in  doing,  in  the  pure  white  snow- 
flakes,  piled  nearly  a  foot  deep  over  everything,  and 
for  a  time,  both  lads  were  wild  with  the  delightful 
novelty  of  playing  in  the  new-fallen  snow,  and 
watching  the  thick  falling  flakes. 

The  snow  was  damp  and  packed  easily;  and  the 
moment  Ham  and  Rad  Dawson  stepped  outside  of 
the  hut  they  were  saluted  with  rapid  volleys  of  snow- 
balls and  whoops  of  delight  from  the  two  boys. 
The  challenge  to  battle  was  promptly  accepted  by 
the  two  men;  and,  in  a  moment  more,  snowballs 
were  flying  furiously  in  every  direction,  while  the 
yells  of  the  contestants  awoke  every  one  in  camp. 

As  fast  as  they  could  dress  the  trappers  rushed 
outdoors ;  and,  as  soon  as  one  of  them  appeared,  he 
was  greeted  with  a  volley  of  snowballs  that  sent  him 
scurrying  to  the  protection  of  either  one  side  or  the 
other  of  the  snow-fighters.  In  a  very  few  minutes 
at  least  a  hundred  men  had  joined  in  the  snow- 
fight,  and  a  battle  royal  was  raging  all  over  the  en- 
closure, while  the  air  was  filled  with  the  exultant 
yells  of  the  trappers  as  their  snowballs  crashed 
against  the  bodies  of  one  another.  Like  a  lot  of 
joyous  schoolboys  out  on  a  winter's  frolic,  they 
fought,  always  good-naturedly,  now  hurling  volleys 
of  snowballs,  now  rushing  to  close  quarters,  when 
they  struggled  each  to  throw  and  wash  the  face  of 
the  other.  Noses  and  eyes  were  thumped  with 


Winter  Quarters  215 

balls,  ears  were  filled  and  necks  were  jammed  with 
snow;  but  still  the  battle  went  riotously  on,  until  at 
last  the  merry  spirit  of  frolic  was  satisfied,  and  the 
great  snow-fight  was  over. 

Rex  and  Dill  had  been  in  the  hottest  of  the  fray. 
Where  the  snowballs  flew  thickest,  where  the  strug- 
gling crowd  of  trappers  was  the  densest,  there  in  the 
very  midst  the  boys  were  sure  to  be;  and,  when  at 
last  the  great  fight  was  done,  the  two  lads  were  not 
without  their  "honorable  wounds"  to  show  how 
bravely  they  had  fought.  The  right  eye  of  Rex 
was  red  and  just  a  little  swollen,  likewise  his  left 
cheek,  and  both  ears  were  full  of  snow,  while  a 
trickling  stream  of  water  running  down  his  back 
gave  warning  that  his  neck  needed  shoveling  out. 
Dill  had  fared  no  better.  His  nose  was  bleeding 
from  a  snowball  that  had  landed  on  its  end,  and  both 
cheeks  were  red  from  the  severe  snow-washing  Ham 
had  given  them,  while  his  hair  and  ears  and  neck 
were  "chuck"  full  of  snow  and  his  clothing  was 
covered  with  snow.  But  both  boys  had  enjoyed 
themselves  immensely,  and  what  did  their  little  hurts 
matter  ? 

"My,  but  wasn't  it  fun?"  Rex  declared,  as  he  dug 
the  snow  out  of  the  back  of  his  neck.  "I  wish  they 
had  big  snow  storms  in  New  Orleans.  Wouldn't 
we  boys  have  fun  fighting  snow  battles?" 

"You  bet!"  Dill  agreed  enthusiastically.  "But, 
say,  what  has  become  of  Pom?  I  don't  remember 
seeing  him  in  the  fight." 


216        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

"He  wasn't  there,  the  black  rascal!  But  we'll 
give  him  his  winter  baptism  just  the  same,  as  sure 
as  his  name  is  Napolyun  Bonapart  Jerusal'm  Jones. 
Come  on/'  and  Rex,  followed  by  Dill,,  dove  through 
the  doorway  of  their  hut. 

At  first  they  could  see  nothing  of  Pom,  but  at  last 
Rex  spied  one  of  his  feet  sticking'  out  from  under  a 
pile  of  bear  and  buffalo  skins  in  one  corner  of  the 
room ;  and  the  next  moment  both  boys  had  grabbed 
hold  of  the  foot,  and,  with  yells  of  triumph,  were 
dragging  Pom,  clutching  to  the  skins,  across  the 
floor  and  out  into  the  snow  where  he  was  duly 
"baptized,"  spluttering  and  blowing  and  kicking  and 
protesting  with  all  of  his  black  might,  but  not  for  an 
instant  losing  his  temper  nor  an  opportunity  to  get 
back  at  Rex  and  Dill  with  a  handful  of  snow. 

This  ended  the  day's  frolic,  and  soon  all  were 
busy  with  the  camp-work.  The  breakfast  was 
cooked  and  eaten,  wood  for  the  fires  was  cut  and 
carried  to  the  huts,  the  horses  were  taken  out  to 
their  pastures  to  dig  for  grass  under  the  snow, 
while  a  party  of  hunters,  on  rudely-fashioned  snow- 
shoes,  started  out  for  the  day's  hunt,  when  about 
ten  o'clock  the  clouds  lifted  and  the  snow  ceased 
falling.  There  were  now  one  hundred  and  sixty- 
seven  mouths  to  be  fed  in  the  encampment;  and 
these  would  require  many  buffalos  and  deer  and 
bears  and  mountain  sheep  and  goats  and  large 
quantities  of  smaller  game  to  supply  all  their  needs 


Winter  Quarters  217 

before  the  winter  was  over;  and  each  day  that  the 
weather  permitted,  the  hunters  must  go  out. 

When  the  hunters  returned  that  night  they 
brought  in  eight  deer,  the  meat  of  two  buffalos  and 
a  young  bear,  a  couple  of  dozen  of  mountain  grouse, 
and,  best  of  all,  reported  a  large  herd  of  buffalos  in 
a  valley  about  ten  miles  to  the  southeast. 

The  apparent  abundance  of  game  in  the  region 
about  the  encampment  and  especially  the  news  that 
a  large  herd  of  buffalos  were  so  near,  caused  great 
rejoicing  in  camp;  for,  of  all  the  perils  of  winter 
camping  in  the  mountains,  scarcity  of  food  was  the 
one  most  dreaded  by  the  trappers,  and  many  har- 
rowing tales  were  told  of  the  sufferings  of  bands  of 
trappers,  imprisoned  by  the  snows  of  winter  in  some 
lonely  mountain  valley  where  there  was  little  or  no 
game  to  be  killed,  and  who,  consequently,  nearly 
perished  of  starvation  before  the  warmth  of  the 
coming  spring  opened  their  prison  gates. 

'We'll  git  after  th'  buffalos  tew-morrer,"  Jim 
Bridger  declared,  "an'  git  in  our  winter's  supply  of 
meat.  It's  bound  to  turn  cold  after  this  storm,  an' 
th'  meat'll  keep  without  jerkin'." 

That  night  a  space  was  cleared  of  snow  in  front 
of  the  row  of  huts  and  a  large  camp-fire  built  in 
celebration  of  the  finding  of  the  herd  of  buffalos. 
The  hardy  trappers  gathered  around  the  fires,  and 
feasted  and  smoked  and  told  stories,  until  compelled 
by  the  lateness  of  the  hour  to  go  to  their  bunks  in 


218        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

order  to  get  the  sleep  and  rest  they  needed  for  the 
morrow's  hunt. 

"Say,  but  isn't  this  life  great  fun?"  Rex  queried, 
as  he  and  Dill  crawled  under  the  soft  buffalo  and 
bear  skins  in  their  bunk.  "There  is  something  in- 
teresting to  be  seen  or  done  all  the  time;  and  the 
outdoor  life  makes  a  fellow  feel  so — so  bully  that  he 
is  ready  to  get  all  the  fun  there  is  out  of  every- 
thing." 

"Yes,"  assented  Dill.  "I  don't  believe  I  will  ever 
want  to  live  in  a  crowded  city  again.  I  wonder  if 
Jim  Bridger  and  Captain  Tom  will  let  us  go  on  the 
buffalo  hunt  to-morrow  ?" 

"Of  course  they  will,"  affirmed  Rex.  "So  we 
must  get  to  sleep  so  as  to  be  ready  in  the  morning. 
Good  night,"  and  in  five  minutes  the  eyes  of  both 
lads  were  fast  closed  in  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XV 

FILLING  THE  LARDER 

DURING  the  night  the  weather  turned  bitterly 
cold,  and  morning  found  the  waters  of  the 
beaver  pond  frozen  so  thick  that  the  ice  would  bear 
the  weight  of  a  horse,  while  Elk  Creek  itself  was 
ice-bound,  except  where  the  water  ran  very  swiftly. 
This  hard  freeze  would  put  an  end  to  all  beaver 
trapping  for  the  winter ;  and  the  trappers  could  now 
settle  down  in  their  winter  camp  and  make  them- 
selves as  comfortable  as  possible. 

Jim  Bridger  and  Captain  Tom  selected  fifty  men 
to  go  on  the  great  buffalo  hunt.  The  hunters  were 
divided  into  two  parties  of  twenty-five  men  each,  so 
as  to  approach  the  buffalos  from  two  different 
points.  Jim  Bridger  himself  commanded  one  of 
these  bands  of  hunters,  while  Captain  Tom  was 
chosen  to  lead  the  other,  and  with  him  went  two 
very  happy  boys,  Rex  and  Dill.  In  addition  to  the 
horse  he  rode,  each  hunter  lead  an  extra  horse,  to 
be  used  to  carry  the  buffalo  meat  back  to  camp. 

The  start  was  made  a  little  after  sunrise,  both 
parties  riding  together  until  they  came  within  a 
couple  of  miles  of  the  valley  where  the  buffalos  had 
been  seen  the  day  before.  Here  Jim  Bridger  and 

219 


220         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

his  men  turned  into  a  ravine  that  would  bring  them 
unseen  to  the  other  side  of  the  herd  of  buffalos  and 
rode  off,  while  Captain  Tom  and  his  hunters  halted 
for  an  hour,  to  give  Bridger  time  to  reach  his  po- 
sition, and  then  rode  slowly  on  toward  the  valley. 

As  Captain  Tom  and  his  men  drew  near  the 
valley,  the  excitement  among  the  hunters  increased; 
for,  if  the  buffalos  were  still  there,  there  would  be 
not  only  great  sport  for  all,  but,  in  addition  they 
hoped  to  secure  in  that  one  great  hunt  sufficient 
meat  to  last  them  all  winter,  and  that  meant  the 
solving  of  their  most  difficult  problem  at  the  very 
beginning  of  their  winter  encampment.  Then,  too, 
there  had  sprung  up  between  the  two  bands  of 
hunters  a  spirit  of  generous  rivalry;  and  each  com- 
pany was  to  strive  to  outdo  the  other  in  the  number 
of  buffalos  killed  during  the  day,  the  losing  side  to 
forfeit  to  each  man  of  the  other  side  a  prime  beaver 
skin. 

At  last  they  came  within  sight  of  the  valley ;  and, 
to  their  great  satisfaction,  saw  that  the  herd  of 
buffalos  were  still  there,  stamping  and  pawing  the 
snow  in  search  of  the  grass  beneath  it. 

The  pack-horses  were  now  tied  in  a  little  grove 
of  trees  and  left  with  a  couple  of  men  to  guard  them ; 
and  the  rest  prepared  themselves  for  the  hunt. 

The  valley,  where  the  buffalos  were,  was  some 
four  miles  long  but  not  more  than  a  mile  wide. 
The  plan  agreed  upon  was  for  Captain  Tom  to  wait 
at  his  end  of  the  valley  until  Bridger  had  reached 


Filling  the  Larder  221 

the  opposite  end.  Then  the  party  of  hunters 
nearest  to  whom  the  buffalos  were  feeding  was  to 
charge,  thus  driving  the  animals  directly  toward  the 
other  band  of  hunters. 

"It's  Bridger's  first  move,"  Captain  Tom  said,  as 
he  brought  his  little  company  to  a  halt  in  his  end  of 
the  valley.  "The  critters  are  a  good  mile  nearer 
t'other  end  of  the  valley.  We'll  wait  right  here 
'til  Bridger  starts  the  fun.  'Twon't  be  long.  Every 
man  be  ready  to  start  on  the  jump,  when  I  yell." 

Captain  Tom  was  right.  They  did  not  have  long 
to  wait.  In  less  than  ten  minutes  a  great  wave  of 
excitement  ran  through  the  herd;  and,  in  another 
minute,  every  buffalo  was  headed  in  their  direction 
and  plunging  through  the  snow  as  swiftly  as  fear 
could  drive  his  big  body. 

"Be  mighty  careful  not  to  get  caught  in  the  press 
of  the  herd,"  cautioned  Captain  Tom.  "If  we  can't 
turn  the  critters,  then  turn  your  horses  and  run  with 
them.  Let  the  old  bulls  go,  and  get  all  the  young 
heifers  you  can — Now !  At  them !"  he  yelled,  strik- 
ing his  horse  with  his  whip  and  bounding  away  in 
the  direction  of  the  rapidly  advancing  herd  of  buf- 
falos, followed  by  his  men,  all  yelling  at  the  top  of 
their  voices. 

This  was  Rex's  first  buffalo  hunt  on  the  back  of 
White  Cloud,  and  he  was  just  a  little  anxious  to 
know  how  the  noble  animal  would  behave;  but,  be- 
fore he  had  ridden  a  dozen  rods  toward  the  oncom- 
ing buffalos,  he  knew  by  the  actions  of  his  horse 


222         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

that  he  had  hunted  buffalos  before,  and  all  his  anx- 
iety vanished. 

"Hurrah !"  he  shouted  to  Dill,  who  rode  not  a  rod 
away.  "He's  an  old  buffalo  hunter!  A  beaver's 
skin  to  a  muskrat's,  that  we  kill  more  buffalos  than 
do  Bridger's  men!" 

"No  takers  here !"  yelled  back  Dill ;  and  then  both 
boys  gave  their  attention  to  the  herd  of  buffalos 
that  now  was  thundering  down  upon  them. 

There  were,  perhaps,  a  thousand  buffalos  m  the 
herd,  and  all  these  animals,  wild  with  fear,  were 
plunging  straight  toward  our  little  party  of  hunters, 
the  front  ranks  throwing  up  clouds  of  snow  like 
enormous  snowplows.  For  a  width  of  some  five 
rods  the  front  of  the  herd  was  densely  packed,  the 
buffalos  crowding  together,  until  horns  clashed 
against  horns  and  heaving  sides  pushed  against 
heaving  sides ;  but  on  either  side  of  this  denser  mass 
the  herd  thinned  until  along  the  outskirts  the  buf- 
falos were  running  in  scattered  groups. 

At  first  Captain  Tom  and  his  hunters  rode 
straight  toward  the  thickest  of  the  mass  of  oncom- 
ing buffalos,  yelling  and  swinging  their  caps,  in  an 
effort  to  turn  back  the  frightened  animals ;  but,  soon 
seeing  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  change  the 
course  of  the  maddened  herd,  they  swung  their 
horses  swiftly  to  the  right  and  to  the  left  and  joined 
in  the  tumultuous  chase.  Then  the  slaughter  be- 
gan. Now  above  the  thunders  of  hoofs  and  clash- 
ing horns  and  bellowing  bulls,  the  sharp  crack— 


Filling  the  Larder  223 

crack — crack  of  pistols  beat  a  rapid  tattoo  on  the 
ear  drums;  and  soon  the  white  level  of  the  little 
valley  was  dotted  with  the  dark  bodies  of  dead  and 
dying  buffalos. 

White  Cloud  that  day  proved  himself  a  wonder- 
ful buffalo  hunter.  He  needed  little  guidance.  All 
that  Rex  had  to  do  was  to  start  him  toward  the 
animal  wanted;  and  soon  the  swift  and  tireless  legs 
would  place  him  in  exactly  the  best  position  for  a 
fatal  shot,  and  keep  him  there  until  the  buffalo  was 
down,  his  eyes  in  the  meantime  watching  every 
movement  of  the  animal,  ready  to  leap  to  .one  side 
the  instant  the  horns  were  turned  in  his  direction. 

It  took  four  shots  for  Rex,  who  was  considerably 
excited,  to  kill  his  first  buffalo,  but  the  next  one  he 
killed  in  three  shots,  and,  to  his  delight,  the  third 
buffalo  went  down  at  the  first  crack  of  his  pistol. 
Twice  he  was  charged  by  bulls;  but  so  long  as  he 
was  safe  on  the  back  of  White  Cloud,  he  could  laugh 
at  all  the  charging  bulls  in  the  herd. 

Dill  was  not  so  fortunate.  His  horse,  in  the  ex- 
citement of  the  chase,  became  almost  unmanageable, 
and  he  succeeded  in  killing  only  one  buffalo,  al- 
though he  wounded  two  others. 

For  nearly  an  hour  the  hunters  followed  the  herd ; 
and  then  Bridger,  seeing  that  the  horses  were  al- 
most completely  exhausted,  called  the  hunt  off ;  and 
the  counting  of  the  victims,  to  see  which  side  had 
won  the  hunt,  began. 

Identification  marks  had  been  agreed  upon,  so 


224         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

that  there  would  be  no  trouble  in  telling  to  which 
party  of  hunters  the  dead  buffalo  belonged.  A  slit 
in  the  right  ear  showed  that  the  animal  had  been 
killed  by  one  of  Bridger's  men;  and,  if  the  top  of  the 
left  ear  had  been  cut  off,  it  meant  that  the  buffalo 
had  been  slain  by  one  of  Captain  Tom's  hunters. 
Jim  Bridger  and  Captain  Tom  themselves  did  the 
tallying;  and,  at  the  end  of  the  count,  it  was  found 
that  two  hundred  and  seventy-four  buffalos  had 
been  killed. 

Wild  cheers  greeted  the  announcement  of  this 
number,  for  it  meant  that  now  their  winter's  larder 
was  full  to  overflowing. 

"Who's  won  th'  beaver  skins?  That's  what  we 
want  to  know,"  yelled  one  of  the  men  impatiently, 
and  the  cheering  stopped  and  all  waited  anxiously 
for  Jim  Bridger's  answer. 

"They  got  us,  boys,  by  jest  tew  buffalos,"  and 
Jim  Bridger  took  off  his  cap  and  bowed  to  Captain 
Tom. 

Then  how  Rex  and  Dill  and  the  rest  of  Captain 
Tom's  party  of  hunters  did  cheer! 

But,  now  that  the  hunt  was  over,  the  meat  had  to 
be  secured,  and  this,  as  you  can  easily  surmise, 
meant  a  great  deal  of  very  hard  work.  Ropes, 
fastened  to  the  pommels  of  the  saddles,  were  tied  to 
the  horns  of  the  dead  buffalos  and  their  carcasses 
dragged  by  the  horses  to  a  little  grove  of  trees,  near 
the  center  of  the  field  of  slaughter,  where  the  bodies 


Filling  the  Larder  225 

were  to  be  skinned  and  dressed  and  the  meat  cut  up 
ready  for  transportation  to  camp. 

There  was  no  returning  to  camp  that  night;  but 
messengers,  bearing  the  news  of  their  good  fortune, 
had  been  sent  back;  and  the  next  morning  seventy- 
five  more  men,  with  the  rest  of  the  horses,  came  to 
assist  in  the  butchering;  and  by  night  all  the  meat 
and  skins  had  been  safely  transported  to  their  winter 
camp  in  the  little  grove  of  trees,  and  stored  in  a 
strong  shed  especially  built  for  that  purpose,  where 
the  cold  would  preserve  it  until  used. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

ROUND  THE  CAMP-FIRE 

NOW  followed  days  of  wild  and  picturesque 
enjoyment  and  contentment  for  Rex  and  Dill. 
They  were  encamped  in  the  heart  of  the  wilderness, 
surrounded  by  all  the  grandeur  and  wildness  of  un- 
tamed nature.  They  had  an  abundance  of  the  most 
wholesome  food  to  eat,  plenty  of  wood  to  burn  to 
keep  them  warm  and  to  cook  their  meals,  and  a 
house  to  shelter  them  from  the  cold  and  the  storms 
of  winter.  Their  time  was  passed  in  the  midst  of 
rude  and  bustling  scenes  of  picturesque  activities. 
The  trappers  were  a  hardy  and  a  restless  race  of 
men,  accustomed  to  the  constant  activities  of  outdoor 
life.  They  could  not  lounge  idly  in  their  huts,  hug- 
ging the  warmth  of  their  fires.  They  must  be  out 
in  the  open  air,  doing  something  to  work  off  the 
excess  steam  of  their  buoyant  spirits,  and  some- 
thing interesting  or  novel  to  the  boys  was  always 
happening.  The  hunting  parties  continually  sally- 
ing forth  and  returning;  the  little  groups  of  men, 
always  busy,  scattered  about  the  encampment,  cook- 
ing, mending,  making  garments,  wrestling,  shoot- 
ing, running  races,  or  amusing  themselves  at  dif- 
ferent games;  the  frequent  neighing  of  the  horses, 

226 


Round  the  Camp-Fire  227 

contentedly  feeding  on  the  rich  grass  of  the  valley, 
the  echoing  strokes  of  the  ax  in  the  near-by  woods, 
the  sharp  report  of  the  rifle,  the  whoop  and  the 
halloo  of  the  returning  and  the  departing  hunters, 
the  frequent  bursts  of  loud  laughter  and  rude  song, 
breaking  the  silence  of  the  surrounding  solitudes  of 
valley  and  mountains — all  these,  happening  in  a  re- 
gion suddenly  aroused  from  its  primeval  silence  and 
loneliness,  realized  for  Rex  and  Dill  all  they  had 
ever  dreamed  of  the  wild  freedom  and  romantic 
delights  of  a  hunter's  life  in  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
And  the  nights  were  not  less  enjoyable  than  the 
days.  Then  the  men  gathered  in  groups  around 
the  blazing  camp-fires,  and,  reclining  on  the  soft 
skins  of  the  buffalo  or  bear,  lighted  their  pipes,  and 
lived  over  again  in  stories  the  past  scenes  of  their 
adventurous  lives,  or  related  tales  of  the  daring  and 
skill  of  the  men  who  had  won  leadership  among 
these  bold  mountaineers  of  the  West.  Especially 
on  stormy  nights,  when  the  wind  whistled  and 
screamed  outside  and  beat  against  the  strong  logs 
of  their  huts  and  bellied  in  and  shook  their  bearskin 
doors  and  drove  the  snow  and  sleet  down  through 
the  smoke-holes,  did  Rex  and  Dill  delight  in  joining 
some  group  of  trappers,  seated  in  the  glowing 
warmth  and  comfort  of  a  blazing  fire,  their  rifles 
stacked  in  a  corner  of  the  hut,  their  deerskin  coats 
thrown  open  to  admit  the  pleasant  warmth,  their 
bronzed  faces  shining  in  the  ruddy  glow  of  the  fire- 
light, their  eyes  glistening  with  animation  and  their 


228         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

features  working  with  the  excitement  of  the  tale 
that  was  telling — especially  at  such  a  time  did  Rex 
and  Dill  delight  in  joining  the  circle  and  in  listening 
to  their  wild  tales  of  daring  and  romantic  enter- 
prise, of  savage  ambuscades,  covert  lurkings,  and 
midnight  alarms,  of  the  hunt  and  the  foray,  of  fights 
with  wild  beast  and  wild  men,  of  weird  beings  that 
dwelt  in  the  mysteries  of  the  mountains,  and  of  all 
the  perils  and  superstitions  and  wonders  of  these 
hardy  men  of  the  mountains  and  the  plains.  There 
was  something  in  the  darkness  and  the  wildness  of 
the  storm  outside  in  contrast  to  the  warmth  and 
comfort  within,  that  seemed  to  give  an  added  vivid- 
ness, a  surer  reality,  to  the  tale  that  was  telling. 
Among  the  trappers  in  Bridger's  party  there  were 
many  men  who  had  hunted  and  trapped  and  fought 
Indians  with  Kit  Carson,  and  frequently  he  was  the 
hero  of  the  tales  told  around  the  fires  at  night. 
Then,  indeed,  were  Rex  and  Dill  enchanted;  for  Kit 
Carson  was  their  hero,  their  beau-ideal  of  all  that  a 
hunter,  trapper  and  Indian  fighter  should  be.  He 
was  the  man  they  had  come  across  a  thousand  miles 
of  wilderness  to  find,  the  friend  of  Dill's  father  and 
of  his  dead  Uncle  Manuel.  For  a  long  time  they 
had  worshiped  him  from  afar,  as  brave  boys  ever 
will  worship  the  doer  of  brave  deeds ;  but  now  they 
were  in  his  country,  were  surrounded  by  his  friends, 
and  it  all  seemed  to  bring  his  personality  nearer  to 
them,  and  to  make  them  the  more  anxious  to  hear 
all  they  could  of  the  man  who  had  won  so  high  a 


Round  the  Camp-Fire  229 

place  in  the  regards  of  these  bold  knights  of  the 
Plains  and  the  Mountains,  the  most  fearless  and 
hardy  class  of  men  that  ever  lived  anywhere. 

One  stormy  night — a  mountain  blizzard  was 
howling  outside — Jim  Bridger,  Captain  Tom  and 
an  old  trapper  known  as  Steeltrap  Smith  came  to 
call  on  Hammer  Jones  and  Rad  Dawson  in  their 
own  hut.  Rex  and  Dill  never  forgot  that  night; 
for  almost  the  moment  the  men  had  seated  them- 
selves on  the  soft  skins  the  boys  had  spread  hospi- 
tably around  the  fire  blazing  in  the  center  of  the  hut, 
Steeltrap  Smith  turned  to  the  two  boys. 

"Wai,  youngsteers,  this  ain't  much  like  New 
O'leans  weather,  is  it?"  he  queried,  as  he  spread  the 
palms  of  his  hands  out  over  the  glowing  coals. 
"Now,  listen  tew  that  wind.  It's  gittin'  'most 
powerful  enough  tew  blow  th'  hump  off  a  buffalo's 
back.  Makes  me  think  of  th'  blizzard  we  had  th' 
winter  we  was  camped  on  th'  Arkansas  River  'bout 
three  years  ago,  th'  time  th'  Crow  Inguns  got  nine 
of  our  hosses,  an'  Kit  Carson  an'  twelve  on  us  got 
after  th'  Inguns.  That  were  a  mighty  powerful 
blizzard.  Why,  it  blew  so  hard  that — " 

"But,  tell  us  about  Kit  Carson  and  the  Indians," 
broke  in  Dill,  too  excited  to  remember  his  manners. 
"Did  Kit  Carson  get  the  horses  back?  and  did  you 
have  to  fight  the  Indians  ?" 

"Did  Kit  git  th'  hosses  back?  I  reckon  you  don't 
know  Kit  Carson,"  and  the  old  trapper  smiled  in- 
dulgently. "Kit  always  gits  what  he  goes  after, 


230         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

whether  it  be  Inguns  or  hosses;  an'  in  this  case  it 
were  both,  for,  after  we'd  got  th'  hosses,  we  jest  had 
tew  go  back  an'  fite  th'  Inguns,  jest  tew  sort  o'  im- 
press on  their  minds  th'  sin  of  hoss  stealin'." 

"Do  tell  us  all  about  it?"  pleaded  Rex.  "We 
have  never  heard  that  story  about  Kit  Carson,  and 
we  want  to  hear  everything1  about  him  we  can. 
We're  here  on  purpose  to  find  Kit  Carson." 

"Sartin,  I'll  tell  you  all  'bout  it,  bein'  you're  so 
interested  in  Kit;  but  I  always  likes  tew  begin  a 
story  on  a  full  pipe,"  and  the  old  trapper  paused  to 
fill  and  light  his  pipe.  Then,  after  taking  a  few 
meditative  puffs,  he  settled  down  comfortably  on  the 
furs  and  turned  to  the  boys. 

"This  was  th'  way  on  it,"  he  began.  "I  reckon 
th'  blizzard  made  us  sum  careless;  for  'bout  two 
days  after  th'  big  storm  a  party  of  'bout  fifty  Crow 
Inguns  sneaked  up  tew  our  camp  in  th'  dark  of  th' 
night  an'  got  away  with  nine  of  our  hosses,  without 
our  knowin'  a  thing  'bout  it  'til  th'  next  mornin'. 
That  made  Gaunt,  Gaunt  was  captain  of  our  com- 
pany of  trappers,  madder'n  a  sick  bear ;  an'  he  told 
Kit  Carson  tew  take  twelve  of  th'  trappers  an'  git 
after  them  Crow  thieves  as  fast  as  hoss  legs  could 
take  him.  Kit  was  always  th'  man  sent  when  'twas 
anything  special  dangerous. 

"We  wan't  long  in  findin'  th'  trail  of  th'  Crow 
thieves ;  but  we'd  gone  only  a  few  miles,  when  we 
comes  tew  whar  a  lot  of  buffalos  had  tramped  all 
over  it,  an'  we'd  agin  up  tryin'  tew  follow  it,  if  it 


Round  the  Camp-Fire  231 

hadn't  a-ben  for  Kit.  I  don't  know  how  he  done 
it,  but  Kit  jest  followed  that  trail,  'spite  of  all  them 
buffalo  tracks,  an',  of  course,  we  followed  Kit. 
Wai  after  we'd  gone  'bout  forty  miles,  our  hosses, 
they  was  in  poor  flesh  not  havin'  had  much  grass 
tew  eat,  began  tew  show  signs  of  givin'  out ;  an'  so 
we  thought  'twould  be  best  tew  go  intew  camp,  jest 
as  soon  as  we  came  tew  sum  timber  that  we  seed  a 
couple  of  miles  ahead  of  us.  But,  jest  afore  we  got 
tew  th'  woods,  Kit,  who  was  a  leetle  ahead,  sud- 
denly stopped  his  hoss  an'  motioned  us  tew  stop 
sudden;  an'  then  we  seed  smoke  risin'  above  th' 
tops  of  th'  trees  an'  knowed  it  must  come  from  th' 
fires  of  th'  Inguns.  You  bet  th'  sight  of  that  smoke 
made  our  blood  jump  sum ;  but  we  was  only  thirteen 
an'  th'  Inguns  was  fifty ;  an'  we  knowed  we'd  got  tew 
take  them  Inguns  by  surprise,  or,  maybe,  git  took 
ourselves;  an'  so  we  went  intew  hidin'  'til  dark. 
"Kit  soon  had  everything  all  planned  out;  an', 
when  it  got  proper  dark,  we  left  our  hosses  well 
hidden  an'  started  for  th'  camp  of  them  Crow 
thieves,  everyone  on  us  mighty  anxious  tew  git  a 
good  lick  at  'em.  First  we  made  a  half  circuit 
round  their  camp,  so  as  tew  approach  them  from 
th'  opposite  side,  'cause  Kit  thought  they  wouldn't 
be  a-lookin'  for  danger  from  that  direction  much, 
an',  cons'quently,  wouldn't  be  a-guardin'  that  side 
careful.  Then  we  began  crawlin'  up  on  th'  Ingunsr 
a-creepin'  on  our  hands  an'  knees  'till  we  come  in 
full  view  of  th'  camp ;  an'  then  we  seed  that  th'  reds 


232         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

had  made  tew  rough  forts  out  of  logs  an'  had  di- 
vided intew  tew  parties.  They  was  havin'  a  big 
dance  a-cel'bratin'  of  their  hoss  stealing  an'  we 
knowed  from  that  that  they  didn't  have  th'  least 
suspicion  of  our  bein'  near.  Jest  outside  one  of  th' 
forts  we  seed  our  nine  hosses,  securely  tied;  an'  th' 
sight  riled  our  tempers  so  that  sum  on  us  wanted 
tew  git  after  th'  Inguns  right  then  an'  thar ;  but  Kit 
Carson  knowed  th'  Inguns  was  tew  strong  for  any 
sech  tactics  tew  succeed,  an'  he  told  us  tew  keep 
quiet  'til  th'  reds  had  tired  themselves  out  dancin' 
an'  laid  down  an'  gone  tew  sleep,  an'  then  we'd  git 
tew  work.  So  we  jest  crept  back  out  of  sight  an' 
waited  thar  in  th'  cold  an'  th'  snow,  'til  them  fool 
Inguns  had  jumped  an'  yelled  themselves  out  an' 
laid  down  tew  go  tew  sleep,  an'  then  we  got  ready 
tew  begin  opperations,  all  th'  madder  because  of  th' 
cold  an'  th'  long  wait. 

"First  off  we  must  git  them  hosses,  an'  we  wanted 
tew  git  them  without  disturbin'  th'  Inguns;  so  Kit 
asked  five  on  us  tew  go  with  him  intew  th'  Ingun 
camp  an'  cut  th'  hosses  loose.  Kit  never  asked  no- 
body tew  go  whar  he  wasn't  willin'  tew  lead. 

"Wai,  I  was  one  of  th'  five ;  an'  I  reckon  I  did  feel 
sum  scary,  when  we  got  'most  tew  th'  camp  an' 
knowed  that,  if  one  of  them  bucks  should  wake  an' 
give  th'  alarm  thar'd  be  fifty  howlin'  Inguns  down 
on  us  six  afore  we  could  do  more'n  pull  th'  trigger 
onct.  But  Kit  Carson  kept  goin'  right  along,  as 


Hound  the  Camp-Fire  233 

if  them  fifty  sleepin'  Inguns  wan't  nothin'  more 
dangerous  than  logs  of  wood,  'til  he  gits  intew 
camp;  an',  of  course,  th'  rest  on  us  followed  him. 
Wai,  we  cut  th'  hosses  loose,  an'  then  drove  them 
slowly  out  of  camp  by  throwin'  snowballs  at  them, 
without  wakin'  a  durned  Ingun,  an'  got  them  safely 
back  tew  whar  th'  rest  of  our  men  was  waitin'. 

"Now,  seein'  that  we'd  got  our  hosses  back,  sum 
on  th'  men  was  for  quittin'  an'  gittin'  back  tew  camp 
as  fast  as  we  could,  seein'  that  th'  Inguns  were  so 
strong  in  numbers  an'  pertected  by  forts;  but  Kit 
Carson  wouldn't  listen  tew  no  sech  talk.  Th'  In- 
guns had  got  tew  be  punished,  so  as  tew  larn  'em 
tew  leave  our  hosses  alone  in  th'  future;  an'  Kit 
didn't  care  a  durned  whether  thar  was  fifty  or  a 
hundred  of  th'  red  devils,  he  was  for  goin'  back  an' 
givin'  'em  sum  hot  lead,  even  if  he  had  tew  go 
alone ;  an'  of  course,  we  couldn't  let  Kit  go  alone,  so 
we  all  got  ready  tew  go  with  him. 

"Kit  now  ordered  three  of  th'  men  tew  take  th' 
hosses  we  had  recaptured  back  tew  where  we  had 
left  our  saddle  hosses,  an'  th'  rest  on  us  tew  git 
ready  for  th'  fite;  an'  then  we  started  straight  for 
th'  Inguns.  Jest  afore  we  got  tew  th'  first  fort  a 
cur  began  tew  bark. 

'  'Ready,  every  man  git  ready !'  called  Kit, 
throwin'  his  rifle  tew  his  shoulder,  for  he  knowed 
th'  dog  would  give  th'  alarm,  an'  th'  time  tew  shoot 
would  be  when  th'  Inguns  first  jumped  tew  their 


234         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

feet ;  an'  almost  th'  moment  he  spoke,  th'  reds  began 
poppin'  up  on  their  feet,  dazed  with  sleep  an'  not 
knowin'  whar  th'  danger  was  comin'  from. 

'  Tire !'  yelled  Kit,  pullin'  his  own  trigger ;  an' 
ten  rifles  blazed  an'  ten  Inguns  went  down.  We 
won't  wastin'  no  bullets. 

"Th'  rest  on  th'  reds  made  for  th'  other  fort,  an' 
got  ahind  its  logs  afore  we  could  load ;  an'  soon  be- 
gan shootin'  at  us,  but  we  had  got  ahind  trees  whar 
we  was  pertected  from  the  bullets. 

"For  an  hour  or  so  we  shot  back  an'  forth  with- 
out either  on  us  doin'  much  damage.  Then  it  began 
tew  git  light,  an'  th'  Inguns,  seein'  how  few  we  was, 
thought  they'd  jest  swallow  us  all  down  hull  at  one 
gulp;  an'  so,  all  of  a  sudden,  they  jumped  out  of  th' 
fort  an'  made  for  us  yellin'  like  they  was  goin'  tew 
eat  us  alive,  clothes  an'  all. 

"  'Wait,  wait  'til  you  can  git  good  aim,'  cautioned 
Kit,  cool  as  if  th'  yellin'  Inguns  was  so  many 
squakin'  geese.  Then,  when  they'd  got  jest  whar 
he  wanted  'em,  he  yelled:  'Give  it  tew  'em,  boys!' 
an'  we  all  fired ;  an'  five  of  th'  reds  fell  dead,  an'  th' 
rest  on  'em  got  back  intew  their  fort  as  sudden  as 
their  legs  could  take  'em. 

"But  them  Inguns  were  mighty  gritty,  an'  'twon't 
long  afore  they  came  a-whoopin'  after  us  ag'in, 
more  determined  than  ever  tew  git  our  scalps ;  an', 
I  reckon,  they'd  have  got  'em,  tew,  this  time,  if  we 
hadn't  a-fell  back  jumpin'  from  tree  tew  tree  an' 
gittin'  in  a  shot  whenever  we  could.  'Bout  this 


Round  the  Camp- Fire  235 

time  th'  three  men  Kit  had  sent  with  th'  hosses  got 
back  an'  we  determined  tew  try  ag'in  tew  stand  our 
ground.  When  th'  Inguns  seed  we  wasn't  fallin' 
back  no  more,  but  was  a-gittin'  ready  tew  give  'em 
a  tussel,  they  gin  up  an'  retreated  tew  their  fort. 

"I  reckon  both  on  us  had  had  'bout  all  th'  fite  we 
wanted  by  this  time,  leastwise,  since  we'd  punished 
th'  Inguns  good  an'  plenty,  we  was  satisfied,  an'  so 
we  took  th'  back  trail  for  camp,  feelin'  mighty  good 
over  th'  way  we'd  got  th'  hosses  back  an'  punished 
,th'  Inguns,  without  th'  loss  of  a  man,  though  sum 
on  'em  got  a  few  scratches.  I  tell  you,  boys,  when 
it  comes  tew  fitin'  Inguns,  Kit  Carson's  better  than 
a  regiment  of  soldiers  an'  a  gineral,"  and  the  trap- 
per's eyes  sparkled. 

"How — how  many  of  th'  Indians  did  you  kill?" 
Dill  asked,  with  all  a  boy's  thirst  for  details. 

"I  don't  know  exactly,"  the  trapper  replied;  "but 
I  reckon  'twas  a  good  twenty.  I  seed  Kit  git  five 
on  'em  with  my  own  eyes ;  but  then  I  never  knowed 
another  man  as  quick  an'  dead-sure  with  a  rifle  as 
Kit  Carson." 

"That's  whar  yer  dead  right,"  broke  in  Jim 
Bridger.  "I've  knowed  sum  mighty  good  rifle 
shots,  but  I  never  knowed  one  quicker  or  surer  than 
Kit.  Did  you  ever  hear  tell  how  Kit  got  th'  big 
Injun  that  stole  Robidoux's  hosses? — No — Wai, 
that  was  whar  Kit  owed  his  life  tew  his  good 
shootin' ;  an'  he  was  on  hossback,  tew,  an'  his  hoss 
was  a-goin'  at  full  gallop." 


236         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

"O,  please  do  tell  us!'7  begged  Dill  excitedly. 
"Please  tell  us  how  he  killed  the  big  Indian." 

"Wai,"  grinned  Bridger,  "if  I  don't  tell  it  tew  you 
now,  I  know  you  boys  won't  give  me  no  rest  'til  I 
do,  seein'  it's  'bout  yer  friend  Kit  Carson,  so  I'll  jest 
give  it  tew  you  right  on  th'  spot." 

"Bully  for  you !"  Rex  declared,  hitching  himself 
up  nearer  to  Bridger. 

All  laughed ;  and  Jim  Bridger  filled  his  pipe  with 
fresh  tobacco,  and  sat  for  a  few  minutes  listening 
to  the  howlings  of  the  storm  outside  and  contentedly 
puffing  on  his  pipe,  then,  with  a  sly  wink  at  Ham,  he 
turned  to  Rex  and  Dill. 

"This  sure  is  a  regler  Rocky  Mountain  blizzard," 
he  said,  "an*  I  shouldn't  be  s'prised  if  'twar  cold 
enough  by  tew-morrer  night  tew  freeze  bilin' 
coffee.  Onct  when  we  war  camped  up  on  th'  Snake 
River—" 

"But,  the  story!"  broke  in  Dill  excitedly.  "You 
promised  to  tell  us  how  Kit  Carson  killed  the  big 
Indian!" 

"Now  don't  git  tew  rambunctuous,"  grinned 
Bridger.  "I  was  jest  a-comin'  tew  that.  As  I  was 
sayin',  it  war  while  Kit  was  in  winter  camp  on  th' 
Winty  River,  'long  with  Captain  Lee  an'  Robidoux, 
that  a  big  buck  Injun,  strong  as  a  buffalo  bull,  an' 
brave  an'  cunnin',  an'  mighty  quick  an'  sure  with 
a  rifle,  who  was  workin'  for  Robidoux,  vamosed 
one  dark  night  with  six  of  Robidoux's  best  hosses; 
an',  as  each  one  of  th'  hosses  was  worth  'bout  two 


Round  the  Camp-Fire  237 

hundred  dollars,  th'  deal  riled  th'  temper  of  Robi- 
doux  'till  he  was  madder'n  a  wounded  grizzly,  an', 
as  as  soon  as  he  had  got  done  swearin',  he  started 
for  th'  camp  of  Captain  Lee,  whar  Kit  Carson  was, 
tew  git  him  tew  go  after  th'  Injun. 

"Kit  knowed  th'  Injun,  knowed  that  'twould  be 
a  fite  tew  th'  death,  afore  he'd  give  up  th'  hosses, 
an'  that  th'  Injun  was  'bout  th'  toughest  man  tew 
tackle,  white  or  red,  in  th'  Rocky  Mountains;  but 
that  didn't  make  no  difference  tew  Kit.  He  was 
willin'  tew  go;  an',  in  ten  minutes,  he  was  on  his 
hoss's  back,  fully-armed  and  ready  tew  git  after 
that  Injun. 

"A  village  of  the  Utah  Tribe  of  Injuns  was 
camped  near  by,  an'  Kit  rode  straight  tew  this 
village,  after  one  of  th'  warriors,  that  he  knowed, 
tew  go  with  him.  Th'  savage  was  as  ready  for  th' 
adventure  as  was  Kit ;  an',  in  a  few  minutes,  he  was 
mounted  on  his  war-hoss,  an'  th'  two  men  galloped 
off  tew  find  th'  trail  of  th'  robber.  This  wan't  diffi- 
cult for  eyes  as  'customed  tew  trailin'  as  war  th'  eyes 
of  Kit  an'  his  Injun  friend;  an'  they  was  soon  on 
th'  trail,  gallopin'  'long  as  fast  as  they  could  make 
their  hosses  go. 

"For  'bout  a  hundred  miles  they  rode,  without 
onct  havin'  lost  sight  of  th'  trail,  when  th'  Injun's 
hoss  suddenly  took  sick  an'  gin  out  completely. 
Of  course  that  meant  th'  Injun  would  have  tew 
quit,  an'  that  Kit  would  have  tew  give  up  th'  chase, 
or  go  on  alone.  But  'tain't  Kit's  nater  tew  give  up 


238         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

anything,  so  long  as  he's  got  a  fight  in'  chance,  an', 
'though  he  knowed  'twould  be  kill  th'  Injun  or  git 
killed,  with  th'  advantage  all  in  favor  of  th'  Injun, 
he  didn't  hesitate,  but  said  good-by  tew  th'  Injun 
an'  rode  on  alone  'long  th'  trail  of  th'  desperado. 

"Now,  'twan't  more'n  thirty  miles  from  whar 
Kit  had  left  his  Injun  friend,  which  shows  he'd  done 
sum  mighty  fast  trailin',  when  he  caught  sight  of 
th'  hoss  thief.  Th'  savage  'bout  th'  same  time  saw 
Kit,  an'  knowed  'twas  kill  or  git  killed.  When  they 
first  saw  each  other  they  was  on  th'  open  plain; 
but  a  leetle  ahead  of  th'  Injun  was  a  grove  of  trees, 
an'  he  knowed,  if  he  could  git  tew  them  trees,  he'd 
have  Kit  at  his  mercy,  seein'  that  he  could  hide 
ahind  a  tree  an'  shoot  him  afore  Kit  could  git  a 
crack  at  him.  'Twas  a  mighty  good  plan;  an'  Kit 
knowed  it  as  well  as  did  th'  Injun,  but  it  only  made 
him  rush  his  hoss  th'  harder.  He  had  come  after 
that  Injun  an'  he  was  goin'  tew  git  him.  Wai  th' 
Injun  reached  th'  trees,  leaped  off  his  hoss,  an'  was 
springin'  for  a  tree,  when  Kit  Carson,  his  hoss  goin' 
at  full  speed,  threw  his  rifle  tew  his  shoulder  an' 
fired.  An'  he  got  th'  Injun !"  and  Bridger  half 
arose,  his  eyes  glittering  with  excitement.  "He 
got  him!"  he  repeated.  "Th'  Injun  jest  give  one 
jump  up  in  th'  air  an'  fell  dead,  his  rifle  goin'  off  as 
he  fell.  Now  that's  what  I  call  mighty  good 
shootin',  seein'  that  both  Kit's  hoss  an'  th'  Injun 
war  on  th'  jump.  But  Kit  jest  had  tew  git  him; 


Round  the  Camp-Fire  239 

an',  sumhow,  when  Kit  has  tew  do  a  thing,  he  kin 
always  do  it. 

"An7  Kit  always  knows  jest  th'  proper  thing  to 
do  at  jest  th'  right  time;  an'  you  can't  scare  or  bluff 
him  a  little  bit,"  Rad  Dawson  declared.  "I  reckon 
if  it  hadn't  a-ben  for  Kit's  coolness  an'  knowin' 
jest  what  to  do,  there  wouldn't  be  any  scalp  on  my 
head  right  now." 

"And  you've  never  told  us  a  word  about  it!"  in- 
terjected Dill  indignantly. 

"Forgot  all  'bout  it,"  Rad  laughed,  "  'til  Bridger's 
an'  Smith's  yarns  brought  it  to  my  mind." 

"But  it  isn't  too  late  now,"  Rex  admonished. 

"Sartin.  Give  us  th'  yarn,"  Bridger  urged.  "I 
never  heared  it." 

"All  right,"  and  Rad  laid  down  his  pipe,  declar- 
ing he  could  not  talk  "with  a  pipe  atween"  his  teeth. 
"  'Twas  when  we  were  camped  on  th'  Colorado 
River  'long  with  Captain  Young — " 

"The  same  Captain  Young  we  know?"  broke  in 
Dill  excitedly.  "The  Captain  Young  who  outfitted 
us  at  Santa  Fe?" 

"Th'  very  same  gentleman,"  answered  Rad. 
"Now,  young  feller,  if  you  want  tew  hear  this  story, 
don't  you  be  interruptin'  me  no  more." 

Dill  promptly  subsided  and  Rad  began  again. 

"As  I  was  sayin,"  he  continued,  "  'twas  when  we 
were  camped  on  th'  Colorado,  an'  trappin'  thar- 
abouts,  that  one  day,  when  Kit  an'  'bout  a  dozen  of 


240         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

us  trappers  had  been  left  in  charge  of  th'  camp,  th' 
rest  of  th'  trappers  bein'  out  lookin'  after  th'  traps, 
'bout  five  hundred  Injuns  came  marchin'  intew 
camp  as  bold  as  you  please,  perfessin'  th'  greatest 
love  an'  affection  for  us  whites ;  but  I  could  see  that 
Kit  didn't  place  much  confidence  in  their  perfessions 
of  friendship  an'  was  keepin'  mighty  close  watch  on 
'em,  an'  soon  he  managed,  kinder  careless-like,  tew 
git  us  trappers  altogether  in  a  sort  of  a  bunch. 

"  'Boys,'  he  said,  laughin',  jest  as  if  he  was  tellin' 
a  funny  story,  so  as  to  fool  th'  reds,  who  couldn't 
understand  a  word  of  English,  'Them  Injuns  have 
all  got  their  weapons  concealed  under  their  blankets, 
an'  I  reckon  they're  intendin'  tew  murder  us  all,  so 
as  tew  git  our  furs  an'  outfits.  Now,'  an'  Kit 
laughed  ag'in,  'if  you'll  jest  keep  cool  an'  do  jest 
as  I  tell  you,  I  reckon  we  can  bluff  th'  Injuns  off. 
Everybody  laugh,'  an  once  ag'in  Kit  burst  intew 
a  loud  laugh,  an'  we  all  laughed  with  him,  jest  as 
if  it  was  a  corkin'  good  story  he'd  told  us;  but,  I 
reckon  none  of  us  felt  much  like  laughin',  leastwise 
I  know  I  didn't. 

"  'Now,'  an'  Kit  was  smilin',  Til  cover  that  big 
chief  with  th'  grizzly  b'ar  necklace,  an',  when  I  say 
ready,  you  all  cock  your  rifles  an'  stand  ready  tew 
shoot  th'  first  Injun  that  makes  a  hostile  move.' 

"Kit  paused  for  a  moment  an'  his  eyes  glanced 
swiftly  around.  Th'  Injuns  were  stalkin'  about  as 
if  they  owned  th'  hull  camp,  an'  th'  big  chief  was 


Round  the  Camp-Fir e  241 

a-talkin'  tew  a  bunch  of  head  warriors  not  more'n 
ten  feet  from  whar  Kit  was  a-standin'.  Th'  proper 
time  had  come,  an'  Kit  knowed  it. 

"  'Ready !'  he  cried,  an'  throwed  his  rifle  tew  his 
shoulder  an'  pointed  it  pointblank  at  th'  big  chief's 
head,  while  we  all  cocked  our  rifles  an'  stood  ready 
tew  shoot  any  red  devil  that  moved  a  hand  toward 
his  weapon. 

"Wai,  I  reckon  them  Injuns  was  s'prised  sum! 
Th'  big  chief  turned  almost  yeller  with  fright,  an' 
not  one  of  th'  rest  on  'em  dared  tew  move  a  muscle. 
They  knowed,  if  it  come  to  shootin',  we  wouldn't 
miss. 

"Then  Kit  began  tew  talk  Spanish  to  them. 
Most  Injuns  know  a  little  Spanish.  He  told  them 
he'd  looked  intew  their  hearts  an'  found  them  all 
bad,  that  he  had  listened  tew  their  words  of  friend- 
ship an'  discovered  they  were  all  lies,  that  they'd 
come  with  words  of  love  in  their  mouths  an'  guns 
an'  knives  under  their  blankets;  an'  ended  by  tell- 
in'  every  one  on  'em  tew  git  out  of  that  camp  jest 
as  fast  as  his  legs  could  take  him,  an'  that  th'  big 
chief  would  git  a  bullet  through  his  head  th'  first 
time  one  of  his  warriors  made  a  hostile  move,  an' 
that  afore  they  could  kill  us  we'd  send  a  lot  of  his 
warriors  tew  th'  happy  hunting-grounds. 

"Wai,  th'  big  chief  an'  his  warriors  stood  glarin' 
at  us  for  more'n  a  minute;  but  we  jest  waited,  our 
guns  cocked  an'  held  ready  for  instant  use,  ready 


242         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

tew  shoot  th'  moment  one  on  'em  drew  a  weapon, 
while  Kit  kept  his  cocked  gun  leveled  plumb  at  th' 
big  chief's  head. 

'  'Git!'  ag'in  said  Kit,  an'  he  took  a  step  toward 
th'  big  chief. 

"Then,  I  reckon,  they  seed  we  was  dead  in 
arnest;  an'  I'll  be  blessed,  if  them  hull  five  hundred 
Injuns  didn't  turn  tail  an'  march,  out  of  th'  camp, 
lookin'  as  ugly  as  devils,  but  not  one  on  'em  darin' 
tew  touch  a  weapon.  Now,  that's  what  I  call 
knowin'  jest  what  tew  do,  at  jest  th'  right  moment, 
an'  doin'  it  in  jest  th'  right  way.  It  takes  nerve 
an'  grit  tew  work  that  kind  of  a  bluff;  an'  I  don't 
believe  there  is  another  man  in  th'  Rockies  that 
could  have  done  it.  But  Kit  didn't  'pear  tew  think 
he  done  nothin'." 

"That  is  just  what  I  like  'bout  Kit  Carson," 
Captain  Tom  said.  "He  never  brags.  He  just 
does  things,  and  lets  the  deeds  do  their  own  talk- 
ing. And  I've  found  out  that  that  is  the  kind  of 
man  to  tie  to  every  time.  I  never  knowed  Kit  Car- 
son to  utter  a  boastful  word." 

"Dat  dar  Kit  Ca'son  must  be  de  debbel  ob  a  man, 
fo'  sho' !"  ejaculated  Pom,  who  had  been  listening  to 
the  tales  with  wide-opened  rolling  eyes.  "I's  done 
pow'ful  glad  dat  Kit  Ca'son  ain't  no  Injun,  'case  I 
spec'lates  if  he  war  he'd  done  kill  all  ob  us,"  and 
Pom  shuddered  at  the  gory  thought  and  felt  of  the 
kinks  of  wool  on  top  of  his  head. 

Now,  you  boys  can  imagine  and  need  not  be  told, 


Round  the  Camp-Fire  243 

how  these  stories  of  Kit  Carson  and  the  long  talk 
that  followed,  delighted  Rex  and  Dill,  and  how, 
after  Jim  Bridger  and  Captain  Tom  and  Steeltrap 
Smith  had  gone,  they  crawled  under  the  furs  of 
their  bunks  and  lay  for  many  minutes,  listening  to 
the  crying  of  the  wind  outside  and  thinking  over 
the  exciting  scenes  they  had  had  so  vividly  pictured 
to  them  and  longing  for  the  time  to  come  when  their 
own  eyes  would  see  this  hero — Kit  Carson,  before 
sleep  at  last  came  and  quieted  their  whispering 
tongues  and  perturbed  brains. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
BUSTER'S  GREAT  FIGHT 

NOT  until  the  last  of  February  did  the  weather 
permit  Jim  Bridger  and  his  trappers  and  our 
friends  to  break  up  their  winter  camp  in  the  valley 
between  the  Bighorn  Mountains  and  the  Wind 
River  Mountains.  Then  came  a  great  thaw;  and 
the  snow  melted  from  the  mountain  sides  and  from 
the  mountain  passes,  and  flowed  off  in  floods  of 
water  down  the  eastern  and  the  western  slopes  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  through  innumerable  creeks 
and  rivers  and  across  great  plains,  to  the  waiting 
waters  of  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  Oceans;  and  the 
ice  fetters  fell  from  off  the  chilled  limbs  of  the 
mountain  streams  and  set  their  waters  free ;  and  the 
strong  walls  of  winter  were  thrown  down ;  and  the 
forces  of  spring  entered  the  fastnesses  of  the 
mountains ;  and  the  imprisoned  trappers  were  once 
again  at  liberty  to  go  whither  they  listed. 

Rex  and  Dill  had  enjoyed  every  day  of  their  long 
sojourn  in  that  wild  and  romantic  mountain  valley; 
and,  when  at  last  the  day  came  to  say  good-by  to 
their  camp  on  the  little  wooded  knoll,  to  the  little 
hut  that  had  sheltered  them  so  warmly  and  hospi- 
tably during  the  storms  and  the  cold  of  winter,  it 

244 


Buster's  Great  Fight  245 

was  almost  like  saying  good-by  to  home.  They 
had  come  to  have  an  affectionate  regard  for  every 
log  in  their  own  little  cabin,  and  for  all  its  pictur- 
esque surroundings  of  huts  and  woods  and  valley 
and  mountains,  endeared  by  so  many  delightful  or 
interesting  or  thrilling  associations. 

Over  yonder,  by  that  little  patch  of  woods  near 
the  needle-like  projection  of  rock,  they  had  killed 
their  first  elk,  a  huge  buck,  with  a  great  spread  of 
horns  that  they  had  hung  proudly  above  the  door 
of  their  hut.  Away  over  there,  across  the  valley, 
where  that  black  gash  showed  in  the  mountain  side, 
was  the  gully  in  which  they  had  had  the  exciting  ad- 
venture with  the  huge  he  grizzly,  when  both  boys, 
after  wounding  the  bear,  had  been  chased  up  a  tree 
and  compelled  to  stay  there  until,  after  yelling  for 
an  hour,  Rad  Dawson  and  Ham  had  heard  their 
calls,  and  had  come  and  killed  the  grizzly.  Then 
there  were  the  steep  hills  a  mile  back  of  the  camp, 
where  they  had  spent  many  happy  hours  sliding 
down  their  sides  on  the  rude  sleds  Ham  had  taught 
them  how  to  make;  the  tall  dead  pine  tree  near  by, 
from  whose  topmost  limb  Rex  had  shot  an  eagle  one 
morning;  the  bluffs  three  miles  to  the  north  of  the 
camp,  where  they  had  hunted  the  mountain  sheep 
with  Rad  and  Ham  and  each  boy  had  killed  a  ram ; 
and  the  dozens  of  other  spots  and  localities  that  had 
become  endeared  to  the  two  lads  through  some 
pleasing  or  exciting  adventure.  But  now  they 
must  say  farewell  to  all  this,  and  go  on  further  into 


246         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

the  wilderness  of  mountains  and  valleys  stretching 
to  the  west  of  them;  and,  notwithstanding  their 
eagerness  to  go,  the  thought  that  they  might  never 
see  these  pleasing  and  endeared  scenes  again  sad- 
dened their  going. 

With  the  passing  of  the  snow  from  the  mountain 
passes  and  valleys  and  the  unfettering  of  the  moun- 
tain streams,  the  trapping  season  had  again  opened ; 
and  all  the  trappers  were  anxious  to  be  at  their 
work,  catching  the  beaver  and  the  other  fur  bear- 
ing animals. 

Before  leaving  the  valley  Jim  Bridger  divided 
his  brigade  of  trappers  into  two  parties  of  seventy- 
five  men  each.  One  party  was  to  go  North  to  the 
South  Fork  of  Snake  River,  where  they  were  to  be- 
gin trapping,  gradually  working  southward  until 
it  became  time  to  start  for  the  rendezvous  on  Green 
River ;  while  the  other  party,  under  the  command  of 
Bridger  himself,  was  to  cross  over  the  Wind  River 
Mountains  through  the  South  Pass  and  trap  along 
the  eastern  streams  of  the  Green  River  Valley,  until 
it  was  time  to  go  to  the  mouth  of  Horse  Creek  on 
Green  River,  where  the  summer's  rendezvous  was 
to  be  held. 

Captain  Tom,  after  consultation  with  Hammer 
Jones  and  others  of  his  trappers,  decided  to  join 
Bridger's  party,  and  trap  with  them  until  all  went 
to  the  rendezvous  on  Green  River.  This  would  be 
much  safer  than  it  would  be  for  his  little  party  to 
strike  out  all  by  itself,  since  the  Indians  seldom 


Buster's  Great  Fight  247 

ventured  to  attack  or  to  seriously  harass  as  large  a 
body  of  trappers  as  would  be  with  Jim  Bridger. 

Rex  and  Dill,  who  had  made  a  number  of  warm 
friends  among  Bridger's  trappers,  were  very  much 
pleased  with  this  arrangement,  since  it  would  enable 
them  to  continue  many  of  these  friendships.  Be- 
sides they  had  long  wished  to  see  how  one  of  the 
large  bodies  of  trappers,  sent  out  every  year  by 
the  great  fur  companies,  conducted  themselves 
when  engaged  in  the  actual  work  of  trapping;  and 
now  they  were  to  have  their  wish. 

The  morning  of  the  last  day  of  February  found 
everybody  and  everything  ready  for  the  start.  The 
pack-horses  were  all  loaded  and  stood  in  two  long 
lines,  the  trappers  all  sat  on  their  horses,  their  long 
rifles  resting  across  the  pommels  of  their  saddles  in 
front  of  them — all  waiting  for  the  command  to  ad- 
vance from  Jim  Bridger,  who  was  giving  his  last 
instructions  to  the  leader  of  the  party  of  trappers 
going  north. 

At  last  Bridger  galloped  to  a  point  midway  be- 
tween the  two  long  lines  of  trappers  and  pack- 
horses;  and,  rising  in  his  stirrups,  waved  his  cap 
and  shouted  a  bit  dramatically :  "Forward !"  And, 
with  a  great  shouting  to  and  fro  and  the  bandying 
of  many  rude  jokes  and  the  calling  of  cheery  fare- 
wells, the  two  divisions  of  trappers  started  for  their 
spring  trapping  grounds,  one  headed  almost  directly 
north,  and  the  other  due  west  toward  the  distant 
peaks  of  the  Wind  River  Mountains. 


248         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

For  an  hour  they  journeyed,  each  in  sight  of  the 
other,  then  a  low  ridge  of  rocks  rose  in  front  of 
Bridger  and  his  party  of  trappers.  On  the  summit 
of  this  ridge,  the  cavalcade  halted;  and  all  turned 
in  their  saddles  to  wave  a  last  farewell  to  their  com- 
rades, now  stretching  in  a  long  gray  line  of  horses 
and  men  across  the  distant  level  of  the  prairie,  and 
to  have  a  last  look  at  the  valley  where  they  had 
passed  so  many  pleasant  weeks. 

"Look  there!"  cried  Rex,  pointing  to  the  dis- 
tant party  of  trappers  that  now,  also,  had  come  to 
a  halt.  "I  am  sure  that  that  man  on  the  big  black 
horse,  who  is  waving  his  hat  so  frantically,  is  Steel- 
trap  Smith ;  and  I  think  he  is  waving  farewell  to  us. 
Let's  let  him  know  that  we  understand/'  and,  pull- 
ing off  their  hats,  both  boys  galloped  a  few  rods  in 
front  of  their  party,  and,  standing  up  in  their  stir- 
rups, swung  their  hats  around  their  heads.  Then 
the  distant  man  on  the  black  horse  galloped  out 
in  front  on  his  horse,  and  swung  his  hat  more  fran- 
tically than  ever. 

'That's  Steeltrap,  sure,"  laughed  Dill.  "And 
he's  as  tickled  as  a  boy  to  have  us  recognize  him  and 
wave  him  a  special  farewell.  I  don't  believe  our 
own  fathers  would  do  more  for  us  than  old  Steel- 
trap  would.  He  seems  to  have  taken  a  special 
fancy  to  us  lads  ever  since  that  night  he  came  to  our 
hut  with  Bridger  and  told  us  about  Kit  Carson.  I 
wish  he  might  have  gone  with  us ;  but  Bridger  said 
he  knew  the  country  and  the  Indians  in  the  Snake 


Buster's  Great  Fight  249 

River  region  the  best  of  any  man  in  the  party  and 
that  they  couldn't  spare  him.  But  we'll  see  him 
again  at  the  rendezvous,"  and  Dill's  face  bright- 
ened. 

"Yes,"  Rex  answered,  "and  I  am  glad  that  we 
will,  for  I  can't  help  liking  the  old  fellow,  even  if  he 
does  sometimes  look  and  act  queer.  But  I  know 
why  he  looks  and  acts  that  way  now.  Bridger  told 
me  only  this  morning.  You  see  he  was  captured 
by  the  Indians  about  ten  years  ago,  and,  when  res- 
cued, he  was  almost  dead.  They  had  been  tortur- 
ing him,  the  brutes,"  and  Rex  shuddered  and  his 
face  whitened;  for  his  own  father,  many  years  be- 
fore, had  been  captured  by  the  Indians  and  had 
never  been  heard  of  since ;  and  the  thought  of  what 
his  fate  must  have  been  was  so  terrible  that  Rex 
could  never  bear  to  speak  of  his  father  himself  nor 
to  hear  anyone  else  speak  of  him ;  and  so  his  name 
was  seldom  mentioned. 

"And,"  continued  the  boy,  after  a  moment's 
pause,  "when  the  trapper  got  well  again,  he  had 
forgotten  even  his  own  name  and  everything  that 
had  happened  to  him  in  the  past.  No  one  knew  who 
he  was ;  and  so,  because  he  appeared  to  know  a  lot 
about  trapping,  someone  called  him  Steeltrap  Smith, 
and  he  has  been  known  by  that  name  ever  since." 

"Poor  fellow !"  and  Dill's  face  softened  and  sad- 
dened. "It  must  be  terrible  not  to  know  who  you 
are.  Why,  he  might  have  a  family  and  never  know 
it! — There,  Bridger  has  started  on.  We  must  be 


2S°         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

going,"  and,  whirling  their  horses  about,  the  two 
boys  galloped  back  to  their  places  in  the  cavalcade 
of  trappers  that  now  passed  slowly  over  the  ridge, 
and  soon  the  valley  and  the  distant  band  of  trappers 
were  hidden  from  sight. 

For  a  week  Bridger  and  his  party  of  trappers 
wound  their  way  slowly  westward,  through  a  wild 
and  rocky  country,  terminating  in  a  gradually  as- 
cending sandy  plain  that  led  upward  to  the  South 
Pass,  through  which  they  passed;  and  then,  one 
afternoon,  they  came  to  a  swift  little  stream  of 
water,  running  westward  down  the  slope  of  the 
mountains. 

"Hurrah!"  shouted  Ham,  as  he  paused  on  the 
bank  of  the  stream  and  looked  down  into  the  water. 
"We're  'cross  th'  backbone  of  th'  Rockies.  Them's 
trout  in  th'  water,  an'  they're  only  found  in  streams 
runnin'  down  th'  west  side  of  th'  Rockies." 

This  was  good  news  to  all;  for  now  they  could 
soon  begin  their  trapping.  Indeed,  the  next  day 
they  came  to  where  the  mountain  stream  emptied 
into  the  Little  Sandy  River;  and  here  Bridger 
pitched  his  camp  and  sent  out  scouts  through  the 
surrounding  country  to  learn  if  the  beavers  in  the 
neighboring  streams  and  valleys  were  in  sufficient 
numbers  to  pay  to  trap  them.  The  scouts  returned 
the  next  day,  and  all  having  reported  the  beaver 
prospects  good,  it  was  determined  to  begin  trapping. 

Now,  for  nearly  three  months,  Bridger  and  the 
trappers  with  him  searched  the  valleys  and  streams 


Buster's  Great  Fight  251 

west  of  the  Wind  River  Mountains  for  the  beavers 
and  the  other  fur  bearing  animals;  and  then,  the 
weather  becoming  hot  and  the  beavers  beginning 
to  shed  their  fur,  rendering  their  skins  worthless 
for  commercial  purposes,  the  traps  were  collected, 
and,  with  light  hearts,  but  with  pack-horses  heavily 
loaded  with  rich  furs,  our  band  of  trappers  set  out 
joyfully  one  morning  near  the  middle  of  May  for 
the  summer's  rendezvous  in  the  broad  valley  where 
the  Horse  Creek  empties  into  the  upper  waters  of 
the  Green  River. 

Rex  and  Dill  had  had  great  times  during  this 
trapping  season,  hunting,  fishing,  trapping,  visiting 
neighboring  villages  of  friendly  Indians,  and  shar- 
ing pluckily  with  the  men  in  all  the  work  and  the 
hardships  of  the  wild  life  of  the  camp.  They 
learnt  how  to  trap  the  beaver  with  almost  the  skill 
of  veteran  trappers.  They  became  experts  in  the 
simple  cookery  of  the  camp.  They  acquired  won- 
derful skill  with  their  rifles  and  won  a  great  reputa- 
tion for  successful  hunting.  And  every  day  they 
grew  more  sturdy  in  physique  and  health,  more 
manly  and  resourceful,  as  their  bodies  and  minds 
and  characters  developed  under  the  wholesome  and 
stirring  influences  of  their  active  outdoor  life. 
Even  Pom  came  under  the  influence  of  the  wonder- 
ful life  they  were  living,  and  lost  a  little  of  his  use- 
less flesh  and  gained  a  great  deal  in  independence 
and  resourcefulness  of  character.  While  Buster, 
the  grizzly  bear  cub,  grew  apace,  until  now  he  was 


252         With  Kit  Carson  in  tHe  Rockies 

nearly  half  grown  and  more  than  a  match  for  any 
two  dogs  that  he  met  in  the  Indian  villages.  He 
followed  Rex  and  Dill  around  like  a  big  dog,  and 
with  them  he  was  always  gentle  and  affectionate; 
but,  let  any  of  the  trappers  attempt  to  torment  him 
or  to  torment  either  of  the  boys,  and  his  temper 
would  flare  up  in  an  instant  and  he  would  rush  at 
the  tormentors  with  all  the  fearlessness  and  savage 
fury  of  his  race.  He  seemed  to  feel  that  one  of  his 
duties  was  to  protect  the  two  boys,  who  had  cared 
for  and  protected  him  so  often. 

Captain  Tom  and  Bridger  had  both  declared  that 
the  brute  was  getting  too  big  and  strong  to  be  safe 
and  had  threatened  to  shoot  him;  but  the  earnest 
pleadings  of  the  two  boys  had  so  far  delayed  the 
execution;  and  now,  on  the  morning  of  the  start 
for  the  rendezvous,  he  was  trotting  along  sedately 
by  the  side  of  White  Cloud,  swinging  his  head  from 
side  to  side  after  the  manner  of  bears,  and  every 
now  and  then  glancing  upward  at  his  master  seated 
in  the  saddle  above  him. 

"How  long  do  you  suppose  it  will  take  for  us  to 
get  to  the  rendezvous?"  Rex  queried,  as  the  two 
boys  journeyed  along  side  by  side. 

"A  couple  of  weeks,"  Dill  replied.  "I  heard 
Bridger  telling  Captain  Tom  this  morning.  He 
says  that  our  pack-horses  are  so  heavily  loaded  that 
we  can't  make  much  over  a  dozen  miles  a  day,  and 
that  we'll  have  to  go  around  Robin  Hood's  barn 


Buster's  Great  Fight  253 

to  get  there,  in  order  to  avoid  the  steep  places.  Let 
me  see,  that  will  get  us  there  about  the  last  of  June 
— O,  look  over  there !"  and  he  pointed  excitedly  to 
a  high  table-like  ridge  of  rocks  half  a  mile  to  their 
right,  on  whose  top  there  appeared  at  that  moment 
a  stately  "Billy"  mountain  goat  leading  a  flock  of 
a  dozen  ewes  and  kids.  "Come.  Let's  ask 
Bridger  if  we  can't  hunt  them.  We  haven't  killed 
a  mountain  goat  yet,  and  that  Billy  is  a  dandy," 
and,  followed  by  Rex,  he  galloped  to  where  Bridger 
and  Captain  Tom  were  riding  at  the  head  of  the 
cavalcade. 

Bridger  smiled  sympathetically,  when  he  heard 
the  boys'  request ;  then  he  studied  the  goats  and  the 
surrounding  country  for  a  minute. 

"Reckon  'twill  be  all  right  tew  let  'em  go,  won't 
it  Tom?"  he  said,  turning  to  Captain  Tom.  "Th' 
country's  safe  enough,  an'  they  can't  git  lost,  seem' 
all  they've  got  tew  do  is  jest  tew  follow  up  stream. 
We'll  camp  on  that  stream  tew-night,  'bout  ten 
miles  further  up,"  and  he  pointed  to  where  a  small 
stream  of  water  flowed  a  few  rods  to  the  left  of  the 
trail. 

Captain  Tom  agreed  with  Bridger,  and  the  boys 
were  given  permission  to  make  the  hunt. 

"One  of  you'd  better  ride  tew  one  end  of  th'  ridge 
an'  t'other  tew  t'other  end,"  advised  Bridger. 
"Then  you  can  tie  your  hosses,  an'  when  you  creep 
up  on  th'  goats  you'll  have  'em  atween  two  rifles. 


254        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

Keep  watch  of  th'  side  next  tew  th'  mountains. 
Goats  always  run  for  th'  highest  ground  in  sight, 
when  frightened." 

Rex  and  Dill  concluded  to  follow  Bridger's  ad- 
vice, and  a  moment  later  each  set  out  on  a  gallop  for 
his  end  of  the  ridge. 

The  ridge  was,  perhaps,  a  mile  long,  and  from 
four  to  five  hundred  feet  high,  with  a  fringe  of 
heavy  woods  growing  along  its  side.  The  goats 
stood  on  an  open  table-like  space  near  the  middle  of 
the  ridge.  The  woods  would  hide  the  young 
hunters  from  their  sharp  eyes,  while  the  wind,  blow- 
ing almost  directly  across  the  ridge,  could  not  carry 
the  scent  of  either  boy  to  their  keen  nostrils. 

Rex  reached  his  end  of  the  ridge,  and,  tying 
White  Cloud  to  a  tree,  he  at  once  began  cautiously 
making  his  way  up  through  the  woods  toward  the 
center  of  the  ridge,  all  the  time  keeping  a  sharp 
lookout  for  the  goats.  As  he  advanced  through 
the  trees,  he  bent  over  almost  double,  as  one  often 
will  when  stalking  game;  and,  perhaps,  this  caused 
him  to  be  mistaken  for  a  deer,  or,  perhaps,  the  ani- 
mal was  wild  with  hunger,  at  any  rate,  suddenly,  as 
he  was  passing  under  a  huge  tree,  without  a  warn- 
ing sound,  a  mountain  lion  dropped  down  on  his 
back. 

Rex  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  beast  a  fraction  of  a 
second  before  he  struck,  but  not  in  time  to  avoid 
him;  and  boy  and  brute  tumbled  to  the  ground 


Buster's  Great  Fight  255 

together,  the  lion  on  top,  and  Rex,  for  the  moment, 
stunned  and  helpless. 

How  long  he  lay  unconscious  Rex  never  knew, 
but  it  was  probably  only  a  few  seconds.  When  he 
opened  his  eyes  he  lay  on  his  back,  with  the  moun- 
tain lion  crouched  over  him,  his  fore  paws  resting 
on  his  breast,  his  head  held  high  and  his  tail 
thumping  the  ground  angrily.  The  brute  was 
growling  furiously  and  his  eyes  were  glaring  off  in 
the  woods  to  his  right. 

For  a  moment  Rex  lay,  wondering  dreamily  why 
the  lion  did  not  turn  and  rend  him  with  his  teeth 
and  claws,  wondering  when  he  would  begin  to  eat 
him.  At  first  he  did  not  seem  to  care  much,  did  not 
seem  to  think  the  matter  worth  the  trouble  of  mak- 
ing a  struggle ;  and  then,  all  of  a  sudden,  his  brain 
cleared  and  he  realized  fully  and  at  the  same  moment 
the  horrible  nature  of  his  situation  and  his  utter 
helplessness.  He  knew,  if  he  made  a  move,  even  to 
draw  his  hunting-knife,  that  the  sharp  teeth  would 
be  sunk  into  his  body  on-  the  instant. 

But,  why  had  not  the  hungry  lion  already  begun 
his  feast? 

At  that  instant,  as  if  in  answer  to  his  unspoken 
query,  Rex  heard  a  savage  growl  coming  from  the 
woods  near  by,  heard  the  lion  snarl  and  saw  him 
bare  his  white  teeth  and  crouch  lower ;  and  the  next 
moment,  a  huge  body  hurled  itself  upon  the  beast, 
and  the  two  tumbled  to  the  ground  together  by  the 


256         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

side  of  Rex,  biting,  clawing,  growling  and  snarling. 

Rex  leaped  to  his  feet  and,  springing  out  of  reach 
of  the  struggling  animals,  stared  in  astonishment 
at  the  fighting  brutes. 

Whence  had  come  his  rescuer? 

At  first  in  the  confusion  of  his  own  mind  and  in 
the  still  greater  confusion  of  the  whirling,  biting, 
clawing  beasts,  Rex  could  not  tell  what  kind  of  an 
animal  it  was  that  had  so  opportunely  attacked  the 
mountain  lion;  and  then,  with  a  thrill  of  pride,  he 
saw  that  it  was  Buster,  the  grizzly  bear  cub,  that 
was  fighting  so  desperately  for  his  life  with  the 
big  cat. 

"Bully  for  you,  Buster!"  he  yelled,  forgetting 
everything  but  the  excitement  of  the  fight.  "Give 
it  to  him,  Buster !" 

And  then,  seeing  that  Buster  was  apparently 
getting  the  worst  of  the  fight,  he  began  an  excited 
search  for  his  rifle,  which  had  been  knocked  out 
of  his  hands  when  the  lion  had  dropped  down  on 
top  of  him.  In  a  moment  he  had  found  the  gun, 
and,  quickly  seizing  it,  he  threw  it  to  his  shoulder 
and  tried  to  get  a  shot  at  the  lion;  but,  so  swiftly 
did  the  two  beasts  change  places,  that  it  was  fully 
three  minutes  before  the  excited  boy  dared  to  risk 
a  shot;  and  then  he  got  sudden  aim  at  the  lion's 
head  and  pulled  the  trigger. 

The  ball  struck  true,  and,  in  a  minute  more,  the 
lion  lay  dead,  with  Buster  still  tearing  savagely  at 
him. 


Buster's  Great  Fight  257 

Rex  now  called  to  the  cub  and,  at  the  voice  of 
his  master,  the  bear  quit  worrying  the  dead  lion  and 
turned  and  dragged  himself  to  the  boy's  feet.  A 
glance  told  Rex  that  the  bear  was  fearfully  hurt, 
beyond  all  possible  hope  of  recovery.  The  sharp 
claws  of  the  powerful  brute  had  ripped  him  open  in 
such  a  terrible  manner  that  only  a  grizzly  could 
have  fought  a  moment  with  such  wounds ;  and,  even 
as  Rex  threw  himself  down  by  his  side,  the  faithful 
animal,  in  a  last  effort  to  lick  his  master's  hand, 
died. 

Rex  dug  out  a  shallow  grave  in  the  ground  at 
the  foot  of  the  great  tree,  using  his  hunting-knife 
for  a  spade,  and  buried  his  hero-pet  there.  Then 
he  piled  heavy  stones  over  the  grave,  to  keep  the 
beasts  from  digging  up  the  body,  and  carved,  with 
his  knife,  in  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  this  epitaph : 

BUSTER 

THE  BEST  BEAR  THAT  EVER  LIVED 

DIED  FIGHTING 

ON  THIS  SPOT 

TO  SAVE  THE  LIFE  OF  HIS  MASTER. 

These  sad  duties  performed,  Rex  turned  to  the 
dead  mountain  lion.  He  found  that  Buster,  young 
as  he  was,  had  given  a  terrible  account  of  himself 
and  that  the  lion,  probably,  would  have  died  from 
his  wounds,  in  the  course  of  an  hour  or  two,  even  if 
his  bullet  had  not  struck  him. 


258         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

The  dead  lion  was  one  of  the  largest  Rex  had 
ever  seen;  and,  when  he  had  the  skin  off  his  body, 
he  flung  it  over  his  shoulder,  and,  with  a  last  look 
at  the  grave  of  Buster  returned  to  where  he  had 
left  White  Cloud,  mounted,  and  set  out  after  the 
cavalcade  of  trappers  that  by  this  time  had  passed 
out  of  sight  in  the  distance.  As  he  rode  out  of  the 
woods  that  fringed  the  base  of  the  ridge,  Dill  joined 
him.  He  reported  that  the  mountain  goats  had 
taken  fright  long  before  he  had  got  within  shot  of 
them,  and  that  he  had  last  seen  them  bounding  up 
the  almost  precipitous  side  of  one  of  the  mountains 
back  of  the  ridge. 

Dill  felt  very  badly  over  the  loss  of  Buster ;  and, 
when  Rex  had  finished  his  story  of  the  bear's  great 
fight  and  heroic  death,  there  were  tears  in  the  eyes 
of  both  lads. 

"And — and  to  think  Bridger  and  Captain  Tom 
wanted  to  shoot  him!"  Dill  exclaimed  indignantly. 
"I  guess  they'll  wish  now  that  they  had  never  said 
a  word  about  killing  the  brave  little  fellow." 

Dill  was  right ;  for  that  night,  when  the  two  boys 
had  reached  camp  and  Rex  had  told  his  story, 
Bridger  declared:  "If  that  b'ar  had  come  out  of 
that  scrap  with  th'  lion  all  right,  I'd  a-fed  him  on 
buffalo  steaks  with  my  own  hand  an'  a-fought  for 
his  life  same  as  I  would  for  any  good  comrade's. 
That's  th'  only  grizzly  I  ever  knowed  tew  act 
human,"  and  every  man  in  camp  would  have  said 
amen  to  that  sentiment. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE   BIG   BULLY   OF   THE   MOUNTAINS 

MOUNTAIN  floods  and  storms  and  the  diffi- 
*  *  *  culties  of  the  roadless,  bridgeless  trail  delayed 
Bridger  and  his  brigade  of  trappers,  so  that  it  was 
nearing  the  first  of  July  when  at  length  one  after- 
noon they  reached  the  top  of  the  last  intervening 
elevation,  and  looked  down  on  the  broad  expanse  of 
the  level  prairie,  bordering  both  sides  of  the  Green 
River,  where  the  trappers'  summer  rendezvous  was 
to  be  held.  Already  the  valley  was  dotted  with  the 
tents  and  huts  of  trappers  and  traders  and  friendly 
Indians,  making  a  very  pleasing  and  picturesque 
picture,  in  its  frame  of  wild  and  desolate  mountain- 
ous surroundings. 

The  scene,  as  their  long  train  wound  its  way 
into  camp,  was  one  that  Rex  and  Dill  never  forgot. 
All  its  varied  and  motley  inhabitants  gathered 
around  them,  shouting,  laughing,  gesticulating, 
hand-shaking,  each  in  his  own  peculiar  and  boister- 
ous way  giving  them  hearty  welcome.  French- 
Canadians,  Americans,  Spaniards,  Mexicans,  half- 
breeds,  Indians,  from  all  the  four  quarters  of  the 
great  West,  jostled  one  another's  shoulders  as  they 
crowded  about  the  newcomers,  each  anxious  to  see 

259 


260         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

if  there  were  any  among  them  that  he  knew  and  to 
give  all  a  glad  welcome  whether  or  not  he  knew 
them. 

"I  did  not  suppose  there  would  be  any  where  near 
as  many  people  here  as  there  are,"  Dill  said,  when 
the  excitement  had  quieted  down  a  little,  and  the 
two  boys  stood  by  the  sides  of  their  horses  watch- 
ing the  picturesque  and  animated  scene.  "Why, 
there  must  be  nearly  a  thousand  people,  not  count- 
ing the  Indians!  I  wonder  where  they  all  came 
from/' 

"Wai,"  laughed  Hammer  Jones,  who  stood  near, 
"that  ain't  none  difficult  tew  answer.  They  all 
jest  corned  from  th'  mountains  an'  streams  an* 
valleys  an'  plains  of  this  here  great  West,  some  on 
'em  travelin'  a  thousand  miles  or  more  tew  git  here. 
This  here  yearly  rendezvous  is  th'  trappers'  fair,  a 
sort  of  mount'in  carnival,  an'  I  reckon  thar  ain't  a 
trapper  in  th'  Rockies  that  would  miss  it.  If  he  had 
tew  crawl  on  his  hands  an'  knees,  he'd  git  here." 

"But  they  are  not  all  trappers,"  interposed  Rex. 

"  'Course  not,"  retorted  Ham.  "Who'd  they  sell 
the'r  skins  tew,  if  they  was  ?  There's  traders  from 
St.  Louie  an'  Santa  Fe  an'  other  points  of  civil'za- 
tion,  an'  each  one  on  'em's  got  his  guards  an' 
hunters  an'  packers  an'  cooks  an'  gineral  camp 
helpers ;  but  them  don't  count,"  he  added  scornfully. 
"Th'  trapper  is  th'  cock  of  this  here  walk." 

"An'  th'  free  trapper,  meanin'  th'  trapper  what 
owns  his  own  outfit  an'  does  his  own  trappin'  an' 


The  Big  Bully  of  the  Mountains        261 

tradin',  is  head  cockalorum  of  all  th'  trappers," 
supplemented  Rad  Dawson,  who  had  just  dis- 
mounted and  stood  near  by,  leaning  on  the  long 
barrel  of  his  rifle.  "Now  I  calls  this  a  mighty 
interestin'  gathering"  and  his  eyes  glanced  around 
the  motley  assemblage  approvingly. 

During  this  time  Captain  Tom  and  Jim  Bridger 
had  been  holding  a  brief  consultation  with  the 
leaders  of  the  encampment,  to  learn  where  they  had 
best  pitch  their  camp;  and  now,  the  place  having 
been  agreed  upon,  they  at  once  gathered  their  men 
together  and  proceeded  to  the  spot,  a  beautiful 
grove  of  large  trees  on  the  bank  of  Horse  Creek, 
half  a  mile  from  the  main  encampment. 

The  horses  were  now  unsaddled  and  unpacked 
and  hobbled  and  turned  loose  to  feed  on  the  rich 
grass  of  the  river  bottom,  and  then  the  men  set  about 
making  the  camp  as  comfortable  as  possible,  for  they 
expected  to  remain  in  camp  here  until  the  rendez- 
vous broke  up,  some  two  months  later. 

From  the  moment  they  had  entered  the  encamp- 
ment Rex  and  Dill  had  been  on  the  lookout  for  Kit 
Carson ;  but  neither  boy  had  seen  any  one  that  bore 
any  resemblance  to  the  mind-picture  that  he  had 
painted  of  his  hero;  and  Ham  and  Rad,  who  both 
knew  Kit  and  had  been  on  the  watch  for  him,  had 
failed  to  see  him ;  consequently  both  lads  feared  that 
they  were  again  doomed  to  disappointment. 

"Now,  let's  go  and  ask  Captain  Tom,  if  Kit  Car- 
son is  here,"  Dill  said,  the  moment  their  camp  duties 


262         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

gave  the  boys  the  leisure.  "He  has  talked  with  the 
leaders  of  the  encampment  and  must  know." 

Captain  Tom  was  hard  at  work,  superintending 
the  putting  up  of  a  large  buffalo-skin  tent;  but  he 
received  the  boys  with  a  smile. 

"Yes,"  he  grinned  joyously,  in  answer  to  their 
anxious  query,  "Kit  Carson  is  here.  Got  in  three 
days  ago.  But  he's  out  on  a  buffalo  hunt  with  some 
of  his  Indian  friends  just  now,  and  might  not  get 
back  for  a  day  or  two.  Reckon  you've  found  him 
at  last,  lads,  and  I  am  mighty  glad  of  it.  Got  your 
tent  up?" 

"No,"  Rex  answered.  "We  were  too  anxious  to 
find  out  about  Kit  Carson  to  wait  until  after  the 
tent  was  up ;  but  we  are  going  right  at  it  now.  You 
know  Ham  and  Rad  are  to  be  our  tent-mates,  and 
they  are  to  help  us." 

"Better  hurry  the  tent  up.  Looks  like  there  was 
a  big  storm  coming,"  and  Captain  Tom  glanced  to 
where  black  storm  clouds  hung  over  the  western 
mountains. 

"All  right,"  Rex  replied.  "Let  as  know  the  mo- 
ment Kit  Carson  gets  back  to  camp,"  and  the  two 
boys  hurried  back  to  where  Ham  and  Rad  and  Pom 
were  already  busy  at  work  getting  the  poles  and 
buffalo  skins  ready  for  the  tent. 

"Kit  Carson  is  here !"  yelled  Dill,  as  the  two  boys 
ran  up  to  where  the  tent  builders  were  at  work. 

"But  he's  out  on  a  buffalo  hunt  with  some  In- 
dians," supplemented  Rex,  "and  might  not  get  back 


The  Big  Bully  of  the  Mountains         263 

for  a  day  or  two.  That's  why  we  did  not  see  him 
among  the  crowd/' 

"That's  bully  good  news,"  declared  Ham.  "I'll 
be  powerful  glad  tew  see  Kit.  But,  I  reckon,  you'd 
better  git  busy,  or  that  storm'll  catch  us." 

In  an  hour's  time,  so  swiftly  and  skillfully  did  all 
work,  the  skin  tent  of  tanned  buffalo  robes  was  up 
and  ready  for  occupancy;  and  they  were  just  in 
time,  for  hardly  had  the  last  skin  been  firmly  tied  in 
its  place,  when  the  storm  swept  down  upon  them 
with  a  suddenness  and  fury  of  rain  and  hail  and 
wind  known  only  in  the  mountains.  But  Ham  and 
Rad  were  experienced  tent  makers;  and  the  wind 
roared  and  shook  the  tent  in  a  vain  effort  to  bring 
about  its  overthrow,  and  the  rain  and  the  hail  beat 
down  on  it  in  torrents,  without  so  much  as  a  drop 
of  rain  or  a  single  hailstone  falling  inside.  Even 
the  opening  in  the  center  of  the  tent,  where  the  poles 
came  together,  had  been  covered  over  with  a  skin, 
making  the  whole  rain  proof. 

Dry  and  safe  inside  the  tent  sat  the  two  boys  and 
Ham  and  Rad  and  Pom,  listening  contentedly  and 
with  a  pleasing  sense  of  comfort  to  the  pounding  of 
the  hail  and  the  beating  of  the  raindrops  on  the  tent, 
to  the  wild  music  of  the  storm  outside.  For  an  hour 
the  storm  roared  and  crashed  and  thundered,  the 
rain  falling  in  torrents,  after  the  manner  of  moun- 
tain storms ;  and  then,  with  the  coming  of  night  and 
darkness,  it  settled  down  into  a  steady  drizzle  that 
kept  the  two  boys,  who  were  anxious  to  visit  the 


264         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

neighboring  camps,  in  the  shelter  of  their  tent  for 
the  night.  But,  notwithstanding  this  enforced  se- 
clusion, the  evening  passed  very  pleasantly  for  Rex 
and  Dill,  who  sat  listening  to  the  tales  of  Ham  and 
Rad,  suggested  by  the  storm  without,  until  it  was 
time  to  roll  themselves  up  in  their  blankets  and  let 
the  wild  lullaby  of  the  storm  lull  them  to  sleep. 

The  next  morning  the  sun  shone  down  warmly 
from  a  cloudless  sky;  and  everything — the  grim 
mountains  towering  in  a  distant  circle  around  the 
valley,  the  tall  trees,  the  low  shrubs,  the  gay  flowers 
and  the  rich  new  grass  of  the  river  bottom — glowed 
in  the  sunlight,  refreshed  and  invigorated  from  the 
night's  bath,  as  if  newly  painted  by  the  loving  hand 
of  nature.  Through  the  clear  morning  air  the 
smoke  of  a  hundred  camp-fires,  built  in  front  of  the 
log  or  brush  hut  or  canvas  or  skin  tent  of  the  trader 
or  trapper  or  Indian,  was  slowly  curling  upward, 
while  the  morning's  meal  was  being  cooked. 
Around  the  fires  stood  picturesque  groups  of  the 
wild  inhabitants — white  and  red — of  the  surround- 
ing mountains  and  valleys,  talking,  laughing,  shout- 
ing and  sometimes  even  bursting  into  song  in  the 
wild  exuberance  of  their  spirits.  On  the  prairie 
about  the  encampments  fed  the  seemingly  countless 
horses  of  the  traders  and  the  trappers  and  the  In- 
dians, luxuriating  in  the  warmth  of  the  sun  and  the 
rich  abundance  of  the  grass,  after  the  cold  and  the 
hardships  of  the  winter  and  the  long  and  toilsome 
journeying  to  the  rendezvous. 


The  Big  Bully  of  the  Mountains        265 

Such  was  the  delightful  and  romantic  scene  that 
met  the  eyes  of  Rex  and  Dill,  when,  on  this  morn- 
ing, after  the  breakfast  had  been  eaten  and  their  few 
camp  duties  had  been  performed,  the  two  boys,  filled 
with  eager  curiosity,  started  out,  accompanied  by 
their  dark  shadow,  Pom,  to  see  the  sights  of  this 
queer  little  city  of  the  wilderness. 

There  were  a  number  of  fine  groves  in  the  valley, 
and  one  of  the  largest  of  these  had  been  utilized  for 
the  business  part  of  the  little  city.  Here  the  under- 
brush had  all  been  cleared  away,  and  under  the  cool 
shade  of  the  lofty  trees  the  "stores"  of  the  traders 
had  been  established.  For  a  thousand  or  more 
miles  these  wilderness  merchants  had  packed  their 
goods  on  the  backs  of  horses  and  mules  across  deso- 
late plains  and  treacherous  rivers,  over  hills  and 
mountains  and  through  dangerous  canyons  and  up 
and  down  steep  defiles,  with  a  cloud  of  savages  ever 
hovering  around  them,  eager  for  a  chance  to  rob 
and  murder;  and  from  equally  great  distances  and 
over  as  dangerous  and  difficult  trails,  the  trappers 
had  come  from  mountain  and  valley  to  meet  the 
merchants  here  and  to  exchange  their  furs  for  the 
traders'  wares. 

Rex  and  Dill  wished  to  do  a  little  shopping  on 
their  own  account,  and,  consequently,  they  first  di- 
rected their  steps  toward  this  grove  and  the  stores 
and  grocery  stands  of  the  traders.  They  had  no 
ready  money  with  them ;  but  money  was  not  needed 
here  to  make  purchases,  for  each  lad  had  what  an- 


266        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

swered  equally  as  well  as  money  in  this  queer  little 
wilderness  city,  a  small  bundle  of  beaver  skins. 

They  found  the  "stores"  all  open  and  doing  a 
rushing  business;  for,  as  it  happened,  the  trading, 
which  had  been  held  back  until  the  last  expected 
band  of  trappers  had  arrived,  so  as  to  give  all  an 
equal  chance,  had  commenced  that  day,  the  last  bri- 
gade of  trappers  having  reached  camp  during  the 
night;  and  all  the  motley  inhabitants — white  men 
and  red  men — were  as  eager  as  women  at  a  bargain 
counter  to  dispose  of  their  furs  and  make  their  pur- 
chases, and  crowded  excitedly  around  the  rude  stalls 
of  the  traders,  loaded  down  with  their  furs,  and 
vociferated  their  wants  in  many  tongues. 

For  an  hour  or  more  Rex  and  Dill  stood  watching 
this  interesting  scene,  then  they  pushed  their  way 
into  the  midst  of  the  crowd  around  one  of  the  largest 
of  these  busy  marts,  anxious  to  make  their  own  pur- 
chases. They  had  not  tasted  coffee  nor  sugar  nor 
bread  for  many  weeks,  and  they  were  planning  a 
great  feast  for  that  night,  with  coffee  and  sugar  and 
biscuits  to  grace  it. 

Naturally,  under  the  circumstances,  the  prices 
of  these  luxuries,  as  the  trappers  considered  them, 
were  high.  The  coffee  cost  the  boys  two  dollars 
and  a  half  a  pint,  the  sugar  two  dollars  a  pint, 
and  the  flour  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  quart ;  but, 
what  cared  they  for  prices!  They  had  plenty  of 
beaver  skins  to  spend,  and  soon  their  furs  had 
passed  over  the  counter  of  the  trader  and  the  pre- 


The  Big  Bully  of  the  Mountains        267 

cious  packages  of  sugar  and  coffee  and  flour  were 
in  their  possession. 

"My,  but  this  coffee  smells  good!"  Rex  declared, 
as  he  sniffed  delightedly  at  the  package.  "Seems 
as  if  I  couldn't  wait  until  night  to  have  a  drink  of 
it.  Here,  Pom,"  he  cried,  as  he  caught  sight  of  the 
negro  boy.  "Take  these  packages  to  camp.  Dill 
and  I  want  to  have  a  look  around  and  we  do  not  care 
to  be  bothered  with  the  carrying  of  them." 

The  boys  handed  their  packages  of  coffee  and 
sugar  and  flour  to  Pom,  and  the  negro  boy  hurried 
off  with  them  back  to  camp,  declaring,  "dat  dar 
coffee  done  smelled  like  a  bref  comin'  straight  frum 
a  b'akfast  table  in  hebben." 

Unfortunately  nearly  all  of  the  "stores"  sold 
whisky,  and  already  a  number  of  the  trappers,  under 
its  baleful  influence,  were  swaggering  around,  boast- 
ing of  their  prowess  and  describing  the  terrible 
things  they  would  do  to  any  one  hardy  enough  to 
oppose  their  lawlessness  of  word  and  act. 

"I  don't  see  how  any  full-grown  man  can  drink 
any  of  that  stuff,  knowing  what  a  disagreeable  brute 
it  will  make  of  him,"  Rex  declared  disgustedly,  as 
one  of  these  obstreperous  bullies  paused  a  few  feet 
from  where  the  boys  were  standing  to  take  a  drink 
out  of  his  whiskey  flask.  "Now,  look  at  that  big 
brute,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  whiskey  drinker.  "I 
just  saw  him  knock  a  fellow,  a  much  smaller  man 
than  he,  down,  just  because  he  did  not  get  out  of  his 
way  quick  enough  to  suit  him." 


268         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

At  this  moment  the  bully's  eyes  caught  sight  of 
Rex's  pointing  finger  and  he  scowled  savagely,  and, 
taking  the  flask  from  his  mouth,  turned  toward 
them. 

"Have  a  drink?"  and,  holding  out  the  flask,  he 
advanced  toward  Rex  and  Dill,  a  wicked  grin  on  his 
brutal-looking  face. 

"No,"  Rex  answered  shortly.  "Neither  of  us 
drink  whisky,"  and  he  turned  his  back  on  the  man, 
the  disgust  on  his  face  showing  very  plainly  as  he 
did  so. 

"Hey!"  and  the  man  with  a  quick  Jump  caught 
Rex  by  the  shoulder  with  one  of  his  great  hands, 
and,  jerking  him  around,  thrust  his  face  down  close 
to  the  face  of  the  boy.  "Maybe  you  no  hear  me," 
he  snarled.  "I  say,  have  a  drink.  I,  the  Big  Bully 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  say,  have  a  drink;  and 
now  you  drink,"  and  he  attempted  to  push  the  mouth 
of  the  flask  between  Rex's  teeth. 

Rex  was  mad,  and,  in  his  anger,  he  forgot  alt 
caution;  and,  with  one  blow  of  his  right  fist  he 
knocked  the  flask  from  the  man's  hand,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  tore  himself  free  from  his  grip,  and, 
leaping  back  turned  on  the  bully  a  face  flaming  with 
indignation  and  defiance. 

Dill,  his  dark  eyes  gleaming  like  sword  points, 
leaped  to  the  side  of  Rex. 

"You  big  coward!"  he  yelled.  "Keep  your  old 
whiskey  to  yourself.  We  don't  want  it  and  we 
won't  drink  it." 


The  Big  Bully  of  the  Mountains        269 

The  bully,  the  moment  Rex  knocked  the  flask  out 
of  his  hand,  leaped  to  save  its  contents;  but  it  had 
fallen  mouth  downward  and,  before  he  could  pick  it 
up,  all  the  whiskey  had  run  out  of  the  flask. 

"You  d — d  American !"  and,  with  eyes  bloodshot 
with  rage,  the  man  hurled  the  empty  flask  straight 
at  the  head  of  Rex  and  sprang  toward  him. 

"Run!"  yelled  someone  in  the  crowd  that  had 
quickly  gathered  around  them.  "Run,  or  he'll  kill 
you!" 

But  Rex  and  Dill  did  not  run.  They  were  not 
made  of  that  kind  of  stuff.  Rex  dodged  the  whiskey 
flask,  doubled  up  his  fists  and  prepared  to  defend  his 
young  manhood  as  best  He  could;  and  Dill,  with 
doubled-up  fists,  stood  unflinchingly  by  his  side. 

But  the  bully  was  a  great  giant  of  a  man,  on 
whose  bared  arms  the  corded  muscles  stood  out  in 
great  knots,  who  had  gained  skill  in  many  a  fist 
fight;  and,  almost  before  the  boys  knew  what  was 
happening,  they  were  hurled  backward  to  the 
ground,  knocked  senseless  by  blows  from  the  bully's 
fists. 

With  curses  the  big  brute  sprang"  towar>d  the 
prostrate  boys;  but,  before  he  could  reach  them,  a 
dozen  stalwart  arms  seized  him,  and  with  yells  of 
"Shame!"  "Shame!"  forced  him  away  from  the 
boys.  The  bully  cursed  and  bragged  and  threat- 
ened, and,  finally,  struck  one  of  the  men  a  brutal 
blow  in  the  face.  This,  of  course  meant  a  fight; 
and  when  Rex  and  Dill  recovered  consciousness  and 


270         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

struggled  to  their  feet,  the  two  men  stood  in  a  hastily 
formed  ring,  their  bodies  bared  to  the  waist,  ready 
for  the  fight. 

It  needed  but  a  glance  to  show  that  the  Big  Bully 
of  the  Mountains  outmatched  his  opponent  in  size 
and  muscular  development,  while  his  known  skill 
with  his  fists  left  the  outcome  of  the  contest  in  little 
doubt ;  but  the  man  was  game  and  faced  him  bravely. 

At  the  word,  each  leaped  for  the  other.  This  was 
to  be  no  scientific  sparring  match  for  points,  but  a 
brutal  slugging  match  for  knockout  blows.  For  a 
couple  of  minutes  the  little  man  held  his  own,  mak- 
ing up  in  agility  what  he  lacked  in  bulk  and  strength. 
Twice  he  struck  the  big  Frenchman  (the  bully  was 
French)  in  the  face,  making  his  nose  bleed  and 
knocking  him  backward;  and  his  friends  wildly 
yelled  encouragement  to  him,  while  Rex  and  Dill 
danced  up  and  down  with  excitement.  Then  the  big 
fist  crashed  against  his  head,  and  he  went  down,  as 
if  struck  by  a  ton  pile  driver;  and,  before  he  could 
struggle  to  his  feet,  even  before  he  had  got  his 
senses  back,  the  brute  was  upon  him,  pounding  the 
helpless  man  with  sickening  brutality  until  he  was 
forced  to  desist  by  the  strong  arms  of  a  dozen  trap- 
pers. 

Now  how  the  big  bully  did  swagger  and  bluster 
and  brag,  declaring  that  he  could  flog  all  the  French- 
men present,  and  that,  as  for  the  Americans,  he  was 
going  to  cut  willow  whips  and  switch  them  all. 

"O,  why  don't  someone  wade  into  the  big  brute 


The  Big  Bully  of  the  Mountains        271 

and  knock  the  stuffings  out  of  him!"  lamented  Rex 
indignantly.  "I  am  sure  there  are  men  here  that 
can  do  it." 

"Thar  might  be  sum  on  us  who  could  thrash 
Shunan  in  a  fair  fight/'  answered  a  big  trapper,  who 
stood  near  enough  to  overhear  Rex's  exclamation; 
"but  he's  an  ugly  customer,  an'  never  fights  fair, 
an'  is  mighty  careful  not  to  rile  th'  fightin'  blood  of 
anyone  on  us  he  thinks  stands  a  good  show  of 
lickin'  him.  Howsumever  I  reckon  'twon't  be  long 
afore  he  makes  a  discuvery.  I  reckon  he's  goin' 
tew  make  one  right  now,"  and  the  face  of  the  big 
trapper  lighted  up  with  the  intensest  interest,  as  his 
eyes  rested  on  the  figure  of  a  man,  who  had  just 
stepped  out  from  the  crowd  and  stood  quietly  facing 
the  bully. 

He  was  young,  this  newcomer  on  the  scene,  prob- 
ably not  more  than  twenty-five  years  old;  but  with 
such  a  strong  masterly-looking  face  that  one  forgot 
his  age  when  looking  into  the  twinkling  gray  eyes 
and  on  the  square  chin  and  firm  lips.  He  was  not  a 
large  man.  The  Big  Bully  of  the  Mountains  over- 
topped him  by  nearly  a  foot.  But  he  had  the  look  of 
having  the  steel-like  strength  and  agility  of  a  deer 
in  his  compactly  built  frame.  Evidently  he  was 
well-known  to  the  trappers ;  for,  on  the  moment  of 
his  appearance,  there  came  a  hush  over  the  crowd, 
and  the  big  bully  stopped  abruptly  in  the  midst  of  a 
most  boastful  tirade  against  all  Americans,  while 
it  seemed  to  Rex  and  Dill,  who  stood  near,  that  his 


272         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

dark  face  whitened  beneath  the  bronze  on  his  cheeks. 

"  'Twon't  be  no  sluggin'  match  now,"  chuckled 
the  big  trapper.  "An'  I  reckon  Shunan  won't  do  no 
more  boastin'  when  it's  over.  He's  riled  th'  blood  of 
th'  wrong  man  this  time." 

"Who  is  he?  Who  is  he?"  and  Rex  caught  hold 
of  the  big  trapper's  sleeve  excitedly. 

"Why,  that's  Kit,  Kit  Carson!  Whar  did  you 
come  from  not  tew  know  Kit?"  and  the  trapper 
stared  at  his  questioner  much  the  same  as  he  would 
if  he  had  asked  him  what  the  sun  was. 

Kit  Carson  at  last!  How  the  eyes  of  both  lads 
devoured  his  face  and  form!  How  they  exulted 
that  it  was  their  hero,  their  Kit  Carson,  who  had 
appeared  so  opportunely  and  dramatically! 

But  there  was  nothing  theatrical  in  either  the  ap- 
pearance or  the  actions  of  Kit  Carson  himself,  as  he 
stepped  out  from  the  crowd  and  confronted  the 
boasting  bully  with  a  quiet  firmness  more  effective 
than  any  amount  of  blustering  would  have  been; 
and,  when  he  spoke,  his  voice  was  not  loud,  but  it 
was  decisive.  No  one  would  think  of  questioning 
the  sincerity  of  the  man  back  of  that  voice. 

"Captain  Shunan,"  he  said,  and  there  was  some- 
thing of  the  purr  of  the  lion  in  his  quietly-spoken 
words,  "I  am  one  of  the  smallest  and  weakest  of  the 
American  trappers  gathered  here,  among  whom  I 
am  sure  there  are  many  who  could  easily  thrash 
you,  and  who  would  gladly  do  so,  if  you  personally 


: 


"  CAPTAIN  SHUNAN  THIS  HAS  GOT  TO  STOP. 


The  Big  Bully  of  the  Mountains         273 

affronted  them;  but  you  are  too  cowardly  to  do 
this.  You  always  quarrel  with  a  weaker  man  than 
yourself.  I  saw  you  knock  down  the  two  boys,  I 
saw  your  brutal  assault  on  the  trapper,  when  he  lay 
helpless  on  the  ground,  I  have  listened  to  your  boast- 
ful words  and  threats  against  the  Americans.  Cap- 
tain Shunan,  this  must  stop,  or  I  will  be  under  the 
necessity  of  shooting  you." 

For  a  full  minute  Shunan  stood  staring  into  the 
steadfast  eyes  of  Kit  Carson,  then,  without  uttering 
a  word,  he  whirled  about  on  his  heels  and  walked 
directly  to  his  lodge. 

"Backed  down !  The  coward !"  cried  Dill,  unable 
longer  to  hold  in  his  excitement. 

"No,"  and  the  big  trapper's  face  sobered.  "He's 
gone  tew  git  his  hoss  an'  gun.  I  reckon  'twill  be  a 
duel  tew  th'  death.  An'  Shunan's  a  mighty  quick 
an'  sure  shot;  but  I  never  knowed  a  man  yet,  white 
or  red,  tew  git  th'  best  of  Kit  Carson,  when  it  comes 
tew  shootin'.  See,  Kit's  goin'  for  his  hoss  an'  gun." 

As  the  trapper  spoke  Kit  Carson  turned  and 
walked  swiftly  toward  his  tent,  being  too  well  versed 
in  the  rules  governing  the  rude  lives  of  the  trappers 
not  to  know  what  the  actions  of  Shunan  meant,  that 
it  was  now  shoot  or  get  shot. 

All  the  trappers  stood  silent,  their  eyes  on  the  two 
tents.  Not  one  of  them  but  knew  what  the  actions 
of  the  two  men  portended. 

Shunan  seized  his  rifle  and  mounted  his  horse 


274         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

first.  Then  a  little  later  Kit  Carson  was  seen  riding 
quietly  toward  him,  a  single-barrel  dragoon  pistol 
in  his  hand — a  pistol  against  a  rifle ! 

The  two  men  now  rode  rapidly  toward  each  other, 
until  their  horses'  noses  almost  touched,  then  each 
suddenly  pulled  up  his  horse. 

"Am  I  the  man  you  are  looking  for?"  Kit  Carson 
asked,  his  steady  eyes  watching  the  eyes  of  Shunan. 

The  two  men  were  now  so  near  that  Rex  and  Dill 
both  could  hear  their  words  distinctly;  and  their 
blood  almost  stopped  running,  so  tense  was  their 
excitement. 

"No,"  answered  Shunan,  and,  at  the  same  instant, 
he  threw  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder. 

"Look  out !     He's  going  to  shoot !"  yelled  Dill. 

But  there  was  no  need  of  that  warning  cry ;  for 
Kit  Carson  knew  his  man,  had  read  the  murder  in 
his  eyes,  and  the  ball  from  his  pistol  struck  and 
shattered  Shunan's  right  forearm  the  fraction  of  a 
second  before  the  bullet  left  his  rifle,  causing  the  gun 
to  tilt  upwards  sufficiently  to  send  the  ball  intended 
for  his  heart  through  the  skin  on  the  top  of  Carson's 
head,  while  the  muzzle  was  so  close  that  the  powder 
burnt  his  face  severely,  leaving  no  doubt  as  to  what 
the  intentions  of  Shunan  were. 

Kit  Carson  had  staked  his  life  on  his  wonderful 
skill  and  quickness  with  the  pistol — and  had  won. 
He  had  hit  his  adversary  in  one  of  the  only  two 
places — his  right  or  left  arm — which  would  render 
his  aim  with  the  rifle  uncertain  and  disable  him 


The  Big  Bully  of  the  Mountains        275 

without  killing  him,  thus  proving  that  he  had  had  no 
intentions  of  killing  Shunan,  only  of  disabling  him 
and  of  ending  forever  his  career  as  the  brutal  Big 
Bully  of  the  Mountains. 

Shunan  was  at  once  carried  to  his  quarters,  where 
every  attention  possible  was  given  to  his  wound ;  but 
no  surgery  could  ever  restore  those  shattered  bones 
to  their  former  strength.  Henceforth  he  was  a 
crippled  man,  at  the  mercy  of  the  weakest  of  those 
he  had  so  recently  bullied  and  beaten ;  and  the  most 
aggravating  cause  of  trouble  was  forever  removed 
from  that  camp. 

"Served  the  big  brute  just  right,"  Dill  exclaimed, 
when  the  excitement  had  somewhat  quieted  down. 
"But  it  was  a  terrible  nervy  thing  for  Kit  Carson  to 
do,  to  stake  his  life  on  that  one  ball  in  his  pistol. 
Why,  if  he  had  missed  by  the  fraction  of  an  inch,  or 
if  he  had  been  an  instant  too  late,  he  would  have 
been  killed,  and  he  knew  it." 

"Sartin  he  a-been  killed,  if  them  ifs  had  a-had 
thar  way,"  and  a  broad  hand  was  slapped  down 
heartily  on  Dill's  shoulder,  while  another  equally 
broad  hand  gripped  the  hand  of  Rex ;  "but  thar  ain't 
no  ifs,  when  it  comes  tew  Kit  Carson,  'specially  when 
it's  shootin'.  Wai,  I'm  powerful  glad  tew  see  you 
tew  boys  ag'in,"  and  the  eyes  of  Steeltrap  Smith, 
shining  with  pleasure,  looked  down  into  the  faces  of 
Rex  and  Dill.  "Got  intew  camp  last  night.  An' 
how's  Jim  Bridger  an'  Captain  Tom  an'  th'  rest  on 
th'boys?" 


276         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

"All  right,  every  one  of  them,"  Rex  responded. 
"Come  over  to  our  tent  to-night.  We're  going  to 
have  a  banquet — coffee  and  sugar  and  biscuits,  all 
you  can  drink  and  eat.  Kit  Carson  and  Bridger 
and  Captain  Tom  will  be  there.  Now  we  must  find 
Captain  Tom  and  get  him  to  introduce  us  to  Kit 
Carson.  I  just  saw  him  in  the  crowd  that  has  been 
swarming  around  Kit  Carson  like  a  lot  of  bees  ever 
since  the  duel  ended.  Be  sure  and  be  over  to  our 
banquet,  about  an  hour  before  sundown,"  and  Rex 
and  Dill  hurried  away  to  where  the  head  of  Captain 
Tom  showed  above  the  crowd  that  still  surrounded 
Kit  Carson. 

When  the  boys  reached  Captain  Tom  he  was  talk- 
ing with  Kit  Carson.  The  moment  he  saw  Rex  and 
Dill  he  turned  quickly  to  them. 

"Here's  your  Kit  Carson,"  he  called.  "I've  told 
him  about  you  two  lads,  and  he's  anxious  to  see  you. 
These,"  and  he  turned  to  Carson,  "are  the  two  boys, 
Rex  Holt  and  Dill  Conroyal,  who  have  come  so  far 
to  find  you,  Kit;  Kit  Carson,  boys,"  and  Captain 
Tom  nodded  first  to  Rex  then  to  Dill  and  finally  to 
Kit  Carson. 

Kit  Carson  smiled,  and,  catching  a  hand  of  each 
boy,  shook  it  warmly,  while  his  twinkling  gray  eyes 
looked  kindly,  yet  searchingly,  into  their  faces. 

"I  knew  your  father,  Noel  Conroyal,  Con,  as  we 
called  him,  I  knew  him  well,"  he  said  to  Dill.  "And 
a  braver  man  or  a  truer  friend,  never  looked  along 
the  barrel  of  a  rifle.  I  am  more  than  pleased  to 


The  Big  Bully  of  the  Mountains       277 

welcome  his  boy  and  nephew  to  the  mountains  and 
the  scenes  he  loved  so  well." 

There  was  magic  in  the  genial  personality  of  Kit 
Carson ;  for,  before  he  let  go  of  their  hands,  he  had 
won  the  hearts  of  Rex  and  Dill — he  already  had 
their  unbounded  admiration;  and  they  believed  in 
him  and  trusted  him,  as  a  son  believes  in  and  trusts 
a  father. 

Dill  at  once  gave  Kit  Carson  his  father's  letter 
and  invited  him  to  their  banquet  that  night;  and 
Carson  promised  to  read  the  letter  and  to  come  early 
to  the  banquet,  so  as  to  have  time  to  talk  over  the 
contents  of  the  letter.  Then  Carson  excused  him- 
self and  hurried  back  to  his  tent,  while  Rex  and  Dill 
hastened  back  to  their  camp,  to  make  ready  for  the 
banquet,  as  they  were  pleased  to  call  the  little  feast 
they  were  to  give. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  KILLING  OF  THE  BUCK  ELK 

T  CARSON,  agreeable  to  his  promise,  came 
over  to  the  quarters  of  Rex  and  Dill  a  couple  of 
hours  before  it  was  time  for  the  feasting  to  begin. 
"I  have  read  your  father's  letter/'  he  said  to  Dill, 
the  moment  the  greetings  were  over ;  "and  for  Con's 
sake,  I  very  gladly  undertake  this  mission  to  Cali- 
fornia. I  remember  your  Uncle  Manuel  very  well, 
and  the  circumstance  of  our  being  at  the  San  Rafael 
Mission  together,  and  that  he  was  interested  in  some 
papers  that  one  of  the  brothers  had;  but  I  did  not 
suppose  the  papers  were  as  important  as  Con  ap- 
pears to  think  them.  Your  father  wants  those 
papers  as  soon  as  they  can  be  got,  and  he  shall  have 
them.  We  will  start  for  California  to-morrow 
morning  at  sunrise.  I  have  already  spoken  to  Cap- 
tain Tom,  and  he  and  his  trappers  will  go  with  us. 
I  have  also  asked  Steeltrap  Smith  to  be  one  of  the 
party,  because  there  is  not  another  man  in  the  West 
that  knows  the  country  through  which  we  will  pass 
better  than  he  does,  and  he  is  brave  and  trustworthy, 
and  will  stand  by  a  comrade  to  the  death.  This  will 
make  nineteen  in  the  company,  sufficient  to  protect 
us  from  the  Indians.  Captain  Tom  and  Hammer 

278 


The  Killing  of  the  Buck  Elk  279 

Jones  and  Steeltrap  Smith  are  now  busy  selling  the 
furs  and  purchasing  the  supplies.  We  will  get 
everything  ready  to-night,  so  that  there  will  be  no 
delay  in  the  morning.  If  there  are  any  little  things 
that  you  would  like  to  buy,  you  must  get  them  to- 
day ;  but  do  not  get  anything  to  take  with  you  unless 
you  absolutely  need  it.  I  cannot  stop  to  talk  with 
you  longer  now,  for  there  are  a  number  of  things 
that  I  must  look  after  at  once;  but  we'll  all  be  with 
you  at  the  banquet  to-night  a  little  after  sundown, 
so  have  everything  ready  for  us,"  and,  with  a  smil- 
ing adieu,  Kit  Carson  hurried  away,  leaving  two 
very  surprised  and  somewhat  dumbfounded  boys. 
They  were  beginning  to  see  how  Kit  Carson  had 
won  and  held  his  mastery  over  his  comrades. 

"Why,"  exclaimed  Dill,  the  moment  his  surprised 
wits  began  coming  back,  "he  didn't  even  ask  us  if 
we  could  get  ready  to  go  by  to-morrow  morning, 
he  just  told  us.  that  we  would  start  to-morrow  at 
sunrise,  as  if  starting  to  California  was  nothing 
more  than  starting  off  on  a  day's  hunt,  and  Califor- 
nia must  be  a  good  thousand  miles  from  here !" 

"And  he  didn't  give  us  a  chance  to  say  a  word," 
Rex  complained.  "There  were  a  lot  of  questions  I 
wanted  to  ask  him ;  but  the  moment  he  stopped  talk- 
ing, he  said  good-by  and  was  off  before  I  could  get 
my  mouth  open.  I  don't  wonder  the  trappers  think 
there  is  no  one  quite  like  Kit  Carson  to  do  things. 
Now,  is  there  anything  we  want  to  get?  Because, 
if  there  is,  we've  got  to  get  it  right  off  quick." 


280         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

For  a  few  minutes  the  boys  considered  this  prob- 
lem ;  and  then  both  lads  concluded,  that,  since  there 
was  nothing  absolutely  needed,  there  was  nothing 
they  would  be  justified  in  buying  under  the  circum- 
stances. 

"Besides,"  as  Rex  sagely  remarked,  "if  we  get 
what  we've  got  ready,  there  won't  be  any  time  to 
waste." 

Rex  was  right.  That  was  one  of  the  busiest 
afternoons  the  boys  ever  had ;  but,  by  sundown,  they 
had  all  of  their  belongings  packed  and  ready  for  the 
pack-horses,  the  coffee  boiling  over  the  fire,  the  veni- 
son and  buffalo  steaks  and  freshly-caught  trout 
broiling  and  the  biscuits  ready  for  the  baking  tin — 
everything  prepared  for  the  banquet. 

The  feast  that  followed  was  a  splendid  success. 
There  was  an  abundance  of  coffee  and  biscuits  for 
all,  while  the  savory  meats — venison,  buffalo  steaks 
and  tongue,  trout — all  fresh  from  nature's  larder, 
would  have  graced  the  table  of  the  most  fastidious 
Epicurean  that  ever  lived.  Then  every  mouthful 
was  seasoned  with  a  good  appetite,  such  as  only  men 
who  live  as  the  trappers  lived  can  have,  and  flavored 
with  wit  and  story  and  laughter  and  songs.  And, 
when  at  last  the  time  came  to  say  good  night  and 
to  seek  the  comfort  of  their  blankets,  all  rose  and 
drank  to  the  health  of  Rex  and  Dill  and  to  the  suc- 
cess of  their  mission  to  California  in  steaming  cups 
of  fragrant  coffee ;  and  then  those  who  were  not  go- 
ing to  California  shook  hands  and  said  farewell  to 


The  Killing  of  the  Buck  Elk  281 

those  who  were  going.  When  all  had  gone,  and 
Rex  and  Dill  had  rolled  themselves  up  in  their 
blankets  in  the  tent,  they  were  about  the  two  tiredest 
as  well  as  the  two  happiest  boys  in  all  America. 

"Isn't  this  a  great  life?"  Dill  exclaimed,  as  he 
snuggled  down  under  the  blanket.  "So  full  of  life 
and  action.  Think  of  what  has  happened  just  to- 
day— the  fight  with  the  big  bully,  the  duel  between 
him  and  Kit  Carson — My,  but  isn't  Kit  Carson  just 
splendid ! — our  banquet  in  the  wilderness ;  and  now, 
to-morrow  morning  at  sunrise  we  are  to  start  off 
again  for  California,  through  a  thousand  miles  or 
more  of  trackless  wilderness,  swarming  with  hostile 
Indians  and  all  kinds  of  wild  animals !  I  don't  be- 
lieve I  could  ever  be  contented  to  settle  down  to  city 
life  again." 

"Neither  could  I,"  Rex  agreed.  "I  am  going  to 
be  a  hunter  and  trapper  and  Indian  fighter,  like  Kit 
Carson.  I  tell  you  there  aren't  many  men  in  the 
world  who  would  have  had  the  courage  to  have  faced 
that  big  bully,  Shunan,  armed  with  a  rifle,  the  way 
Kit  Carson  did  with  only  a  single-barreled  pistol  in 
his  hand.  It  was  great,  and  shows  just  the  kind  of 
stuff  Kit  Carson  is  made  out  of.  But  he  doesn't 
seem  to  think  that  it  was  much  of  anything,  only  a 
disagreeable  duty  that  for  the  good  of  all  had  to  be 
done.  Why,  I  even  heard  him  say  that  he  was  sorry 
that  he  had  to  wound  Shunan  so  badly;  and  the  man 
was  trying  to  kill  him !" 

"You  bet,  Kit  Carson  is  all  right !     Oh,  say,  but 


282         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

I  am  tired ;  and  I  reckon  we'd  better  go  to  sleep,  for 
to-morrow  morning  we  start  for  California.  Good 
night,"  and  Dill  rolled  over  and  closed  his  eyes ;  and 
in  less  than  five  minutes  both  weary  boys  were 
sound  asleep. 

The  next  morning  the  packs  were  all  on  the  backs 
of  the  horses,  the  good-bys  all  said,  and  our  friends, 
nineteen  strong,  were  riding  out  of  the  Valley  of  the 
Rendezvous,  with  Kit  Carson,  Captain  Tom  and 
Steeltrap  Smith  at  the  head,  just  as  the  first  rays  of 
the  morning's  sun  glanced  from  the  tops  of  the 
eastern  mountains  down  into  the  Valley  of  the  Green 
River. 

Their  route  lay  down  the  beautiful  Valley  of  the 
Green  River  for  something  like  a  hundred  miles, 
then  swung  westward  around  the  southern  spur  of 
the  Salt  River  Range  into  the  Bear  River  Valley, 
and  thence  westward  to  the  waters  of  the  Great  Salt 
Lake  and  on  across  deserts  and  plains  and  valleys 
and  mountains  to  the  Valley  of  the  Sacramento  in 
California  and  the  Spanish  Roman  Catholic  Mission 
of  San  Rafael,  where  the  papers  Rex  and  Dill  had 
come  so  far  to  secure  were  supposed  to  be  in  the 
keeping  of  one  of  the  brothers  of  the  Mission — a 
thousand  miles  or  more  of  trackless  wilderness ! 

Now,  remember,  boys,  that,  at  that  time,  there 
was  not  a  single  white  inhabitant  in  all  this  vast 
stretch  of  country  except  the  wandering  trappers 
and  traders,  that  the  way  was  roadless  and  the  rivers 
bridgeless,  and  that  the  Indians  all  along  the  route 


The  Killing  of  the  Buck  Elk  283 

would  be  ever  on  the  watch  to  rob  and  murder — 
remember  all  this,  boys,  and  even  then  you,  at  this 
day,  can  but  faintly  comprehend  the  real  hardships 
and  perils  of  such  a  journey  as  Rex  and  Dill  have 
just  started  out  to  make. 

The  trail  down  the  Green  River  was  without  ad- 
ventures; but,  on  the  fourth  day  after  leaving  the 
rendezvous,  when  our  friends  were  passing  through 
the  mountainous  country  lying  between  the  valleys 
of  the  Green  and  the  Bear  Rivers,  Rex  had  an  ex- 
perience that  will  remain  in  his  memory  as  long  as 
life  dwells  in  his  body. 

About  the  middle  of  that  afternoon,  as  our  little 
cavalcade  of  trappers  was  winding  its  way  down  the 
steep  side  of  a  mountain  into  a  little  wooded  valley, 
an  unusually  large  buck  elk  sprang  out  of  a  clump 
of  bushes  a  hundred  rods  or  so  ahead  and  dashed 
down  into  the  valley,  where  it  disappeared  in  one 
of  the  small  groves  of  trees  that  dotted  the  surface 
of  the  valley  like  islands.  In  an  instant  the  hunting 
fever  ran  hotly  through  the  veins  of  Rex  and  Dill. 

"Come  on!"  cried  Rex  excitedly  to  Dill.  "Let's 
see  if  Kit  Carson  won't  let  us  hunt  him.  I  want 
that  head  of  horns,"  and,  followed  by  Dill,  he  hur- 
ried on  ahead  to  where  Kit  Carson  and  Captain  Tom 
and  Steeltrap  Smith  had  paused  to  watch  with  the 
longing  eyes  of  hunters  the  rapid  flight  of  the  elk. 

Kit  Carson  smiled  sympathetically  at  the  excite- 
ment of  the  two  boys,  as  they  preferred  their  re- 
quest, then  his  face  sobered  and  he  sat  for  a  couple 


284         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

of  minutes  studying  carefully  with  his  keen  eyes  the 
little  grove  of  trees  where  the  elk  had  vanished  and 
the  surrounding  valley. 

"I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  might  get  him  by  rid- 
ing up  to  that  grove  of  trees  from  both  ends/'  he 
said,  turning  to  the  boys.  "Tom  and  I  were  just 
thinking  of  trying  it ;  but,"  and  he  smiled,  "I  reckon 
you  boys  will  get  more  fun  out  of  the  hunt  than  we 
would;  and,  since  the  country  all  around  is  open, 
with  no  lurking  places  for  hiding  Indians  near,  I 
think  it  will  be  safe  to  let  you  boys  go  after  the  buck. 
What  do  you  say,  Tom?"  and  Carson  turned  to 
Captain  Tom. 

"I  say,  give  the  lads  the  fun,"  Captain  Tom  re- 
sponded heartily.  "The  meat  from  that  buck'll  taste 
mighty  good  for  supper  to-night." 

"An'  that  was  'bout  th'  finest  head  of  horns  I  ever 
saw,"  supplemented  Steeltrap  Smith.  "I  was 
tempted  tew  have  a  try  for  th'  old  feller  myself." 

"All  right,  boys,  you  can  have  the  hunt,"  and  Kit 
Carson  again  turned  to  Rex  and  Dill.  "But  don't, 
under  any  circumstances,  allow  the  excitement  of  the 
chase  to  take  you  out  of  sight  of  the  trail.  We  are 
going  to  cross  the  valley  near  where  that  big  rock 
sticks  its  nose  up  out  of  the  ground,"  and  he  pointed 
to  the  other  side  of  the  valley,  where  a  huge  rock 
thrust  itself  outward  like  the  nose  on  a  man's  face, 
»  "and  we  will  camp  in  a  little  valley  the  other  side  of 
the  ridge.  Now,  if  anything  happens  to  delay  you, 
just  follow  our  trail.  You  had  better  make  a  wide 


The  Killing  of  the  Buck  Elk  285 

circuit  and  come  up  to  the  grove  from  both  ends,  and 
one  of  you  will  be  almost  sure  to  get  a  good  shot  at 
the  buck  when  he  jumps  the  grove.  You  can  go 
now.  Good  luck  to  you." 

The  eager  boys  needed  no  second  bidding  and 
at  once  started  off  toward  the  grove  of  trees  into 
which  the  elk  had  disappeared. 

The  grove  was  not  large,  only  a  few  acres  in  ex- 
tent, and  lay  a  little  over  a  mile  to  the  south  of  the 
trail.  There  were  no  other  trees  within  half  a  mile 
of  it,  and  the  open  prairie  lay  all  around  it,  so  that, 
indeed,  it  seemed  as  if  the  buck  would  have  a  diffi- 
cult problem  to  solve  if  he  escaped  the  rifles  of  both 
the  boys  unless  he  fled  long  before  they  came  within 
range  of  the  woods  and  that  was  an  act  hardly  in  the 
nature  of  a  deer  to  do. 

"Ill  take  that  end/'  Rex  said,  pointing  to  the 
south  end  of  the  grove,  when  they  reached  the  point 
where  they  thought  it  wise  to  separate.  "It's  the 
farthest  off  and  White  Cloud  will  take  me  there 
quicker  than  your  horse  will  take  you.  Now  try  to 
get  to  your  end  about  the  same  time  that  I  do  to 
mine,  so  that,  no  matter  which  one  of  us  jumps  the 
buck,  hell  run  out  near  enough  to  give  one  of  us  a 
shot.  Good  luck  to  you,"  and  Rex  galloped  off  on 
White  Cloud  to  the  south  while  Dill  hurried  away  to 
the  north. 

Both  boys  made  a  wide  circuit,  so  as  to  approach 
the  grove  directly  from  the  north  and  from  the 
south ;  and  it  so  happened  that  Dill  reached  his  end 


286        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

a  little  before  Rex  did  his,  with  the  consequence  that 
the  elk  came  bounding  out  of  the  south  end  of  the 
grove  and  ran  straight  toward  Rex  until  within 
about  fifteen  rods  of  him,  when,  catching  sight  of 
the  boy  on  the  horse,  he  wheeled  and  leaped  off  to 
the  right  at  a  speed  that  only  a  frightened  deer  can 
equal. 

Rex  waited  until  the  buck  turned  and  then  he 
fired.  The  animal  gave  a  convulsive  bound,  show- 
ing that  he  was  hit,  and  dashed  on  faster  than  ever. 

"He's  hit!  He's  hit!"  shouted  Rex  in  great  ex- 
citement "After  him,  White  Cloud !  After  him !" 
and,  striking  White  Cloud  with  the  small  whip  he 
carried  fastened  to  his  wrist,  the  excited  boy  rushed 
after  the  fleeing  deer  at  the  full  speed  of  White 
Cloud's  swift  limbs. 

At  first  the  elk  gained  on  White  Cloud,  fleet  as  he 
was,  then,  to  Rex's  delight,  he  saw  that  the  animal 
was  running  a  little  slower — that  he  was  no  longer 
gaining  on  White  Cloud — that  White  Cloud  was 
gaining  on  him! 

"Hurrah !"  he  yelled.  "He's  hard  hit !  We'll  get 
him  yet !  We'll  get  him  yet,  White  Cloud !  Faster ! 
Faster !"  and  with  voice  and  whip  he  urged  on  his 
noble  horse  to  do  his  utmost. 

For  a  mile — for  two  miles — for  three  miles  the 
excited  boy  raced  on  after  the  deer,  forgetful  of 
everything,  except  the  laboring  buck  that  now  was 
plunging  along  only  a  few  yards  ahead.  Down  a 
steep  decline  into  a  wooded  gully  plunged  the  deer 


The  Killing  of  the  Buck  Elk  287 

and  the  horse.  Through  the  brush  and  the  trees 
crashed  the  buck,  and  after  him  crashed  White 
Cloud.  Now  the  nose  of  White  Cloud  was  almost 
over  the  rump  of  the  buck;  and  then — 

"Hurrah!  He's  down!  We've  got  him!"  yelled 
Rex,  as,  with  a  last  convulsive  bound,  the  deer 
plunged  to  the  ground  and  lay  still. 

"Whoop-a !  Whoop-a !  I've  got  him,  Dill !"  and 
Rex  leaped  off  the  back  of  White  Cloud  the  moment 
he  could  bring  him  to  a  halt,  and  ran  to  where  the 
deer  lay  and  bent  over  him,  knife  in  hand,  to  cut 
his  throat;  and  then — a  dozen  dusky  forms  seemed 
to  leap  up  out  of  the  ground  all  around  him — a  flash 
of  dazzling  light — a  crash  like  the  clap  of  a  thousand 
thunders — and  Rex  knew  no  more. 

When  he  came  to,  he  lay,  his  hands  and  feet 
tightly  bound  together  across  the  back  of  a  gallop- 
ing horse,  in  front  of  a  huge  almost  naked  Indian; 
and  all  around  him  he  could  hear  and  see  the  gallop- 
ing horses  of  other  mounted  Indians. 

"Oh!  if  I  had  only  remembered  and  obeyed  the 
command  of  Kit  Carson,  I  would  not  be  here," 
mourned  Rex.  "But  it  is  too  late  now/'  and  he  cast 
a  shuddering  glance  upward  into  the  brutal  face  of 
his  captor.  "I  hope  Dill  has  escaped,"  and  he 
looked  around  as  best  he  could  to  see  if  Dill  was  in 
the  hands  of  his  captors ;  but,  to  his  great  relief,  he 
could  see  no  signs  that  his  cousin  had  been  made  a 
prisoner  by  the  Indians. 

The  Blackf eet,  for  at  his  first  glance  Rex  had  seen 


288         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

with  a  shudder  that  his  captors  belonged  to  this 
dreaded  tribe  of  Indians,  rode  as  swiftly  as  they 
could  make  their  horses  go  and  as  silently  as  shad- 
ows, without  a  pause  for  rest  to  man  or  beast,  until 
the  darkness  of  night  compelled  them  to  slow  down ; 
but  they  did  not  stop  even  then.  For  a  couple  of 
hours  longer  they  continued  on,  through  rocky  de- 
files, down  into  steep  canyons,  and  finally,  at  the  end 
of  that  time,  emerged  into  a  secluded  little  mountain 
valley  walled  in  on  all  sides  by  precipitous  and  lofty 
mountains,  where,  with  a  great  halloing  and  shout- 
ing, they  halted  in  a  little  woods  by  the  side  of  a 
small  stream  of  water ;  and  Rex  was  dropped  to  the 
ground  from  the  back  of  the  horse,  as  roughly  as 
if  he  were  a  senseless  bag  of  wheat  instead  of  a 
live  boy. 

For  a  few  minutes  Rex,  too  exhausted  from  the 
hardships  of  his  long  ride  lying  across  the  bony  back 
of  the  horse  to  move  or  even  to  notice  clearly  what 
was  going  on  around  him,  was  allowed  to  lie  undis- 
turbed where  he  had  fallen,  then  a  couple  of  Indians 
came,  and,  picking  him  up,  one  by  the  feet  and  the 
other  by  the  hands,  carried  him  near  to  where  a 
camp-fire  was  burning  and  dropped  him  on  the 
ground  under  a  large  tree.  The  two  Indians  now 
unloosened  the  thongs  of  deerskin  from  his  hands 
and  feet  which  were  badly  swollen  and  very  painful, 
and  sitting  him  up  against  the  trunk  of  the  tree, 
bound  him  to  the  tree  with  strong  cords  of  deerskin 
wound  around  his  body  and  tied  behind  the  tree. 


The  Killing  of  the  Buck  Elk  289 

Rex  could  now  look  about,  and  his  heart  failed 
him  when  he  saw  that  he  was  in  the  midst  of  a  large 
encampment  of  Indians.  The  little  woods  appeared 
to  be  full  of  tepees;  and  there  were  many  squaws 
and  papooses  moving  here  and  there,  while  a  hun- 
dred or  more  warriors  were  gathered  in  groups 
around  the  brightly  burning  camp-fires.  Evidently 
he  had  been  taken  to  one  of  the  mountain  strong- 
holds of  the  Blackfeet,  where  it  would  be  impossible 
for  even  the  skill  and  bravery  of  Kit  Carson,  backed 
by  his  small  band  of  trappers,  to  rescue  him. 

The  warriors  appeared  to  be  greatly  stirred  up 
over  something.  They  were  talking  and  gesticulat- 
ing in  a  very  excited  manner  for  Indians ;  and  pres- 
ently they  all  gathered  around  a  large  camp-fire  near 
where  Rex  was  sitting,  and,  squatting  down  in 
circles,  began  smoking  and  talking.  Every  now  and 
then  a  stately  warrior  would  stand  up  and  deliver 
an  impassioned  speech;  and  Rex  knew  by  the  fre- 
quent gestures  in  his  direction  that  he  was  the 
principal  subject  of  the  deliberations  of  the  Indians, 
and  his  blood  ran  cold  when  he  noted  that  the 
orators  were  gradually  working  themselves  and 
their  hearers  up  into  a  frenzy  of  excitement  and  rage 
and  that  the  gestures  in  his  direction  were  becoming 
every  moment  more  frequent  and  more  threatening. 

Back  of  the  circles  of  warriors  gathered  the 
squaws  and  papooses,  the  firelight  glittering  in  their 
black  wicked  eyes  and  shining  on  their  bronzed  faces 
and  greasy  black  hair.  These,  too,  were  becoming 


290         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

intensely  excited;  and  frequently  a  dozen  or  more 
squaws,  lead  by  some  old  hag,  would  make  a  rush  to- 
ward Rex,  shrieking  and  brandishing  clubs  and 
clawing  the  air  with  their  long  finger  nails;  and 
were  prevented  from  wreaking  their  rage  upon  the 
unfortunate  boy  only  by  the  lusty  arms  of  three 
burly  warriors  who  pushed  and  knocked  them  back 
with  little  ceremony. 

Rex  was  a  brave  boy,  and  knew  how  to  control 
his  emotions;  but  the  scene  around  him  was  so 
terribly  portentous  of  the  horrors  to  come,  that, 
even  his  brave  heart  faltered  and  trembled,  and  he 
had  to  grit  his  jaws  together  to  keep  from  scream- 
ing, at  the  thought  of  the  harrowing  tortures  that 
he  felt  sure  would  be  his,  when  the  Indian  warriors 
around  the  camp-fire  had  worked  themselves  up 
into  the  proper  frenzy  of  rage.  Strange  that  at 
this  dreadful  moment  the  thought  of  how  his  father 
had  suffered  a  like  fate  should  come  to  him  and 
bring  him  comfort  and  courage,  but  it  did.  He 
recalled  all  that  he  had  heard  of  his  father's  horrible 
fate — how  he  and  the  dozen  of  other  trappers  with 
him  had  been  suddenly  surrounded  by  hundreds 
of  armed  Blackfeet  and  captured,  how  all  of  them 
had  been  put  to  the  torture,  how  one  of  them  had 
finally  escaped  and  had  been  found  in  a  dying  con- 
dition by  a  party  of  trappers,  and  how  he  had  lived 
only  long  enough  to  tell  of  the  horrors  through 
which  he  had  passed  and  of  the  heroic  fortitude 
of  his  comrades  when  put  to  the  torture  by  their 


The  Killing  of  the  Buck  Elk  291 

savage  captors.  The  thought  of  how  unflinchingly 
his  father  had  endured  the  very  tortures  that  now 
threatened  him,  put  new  courage  into  his  heart.  He 
would  not  disgrace  such  a  father.  He  would  show 
these  savages  that  the  same  heroic  blood  flowed 
through  his  veins. 

But  now  the  time  to  put  his  fortitude  to  the  test 
had  come.  The  council  around  the  camp-fire 
suddenly  broke  up  with  howls  of  savage  exultation. 
The  squaws  and  papooses,  circling  around  the 
prisoner,  became  more  furious  and  more  threaten- 
ing, but  still  the  guards  kept  them  back.  A  frenzy 
of  savage  excitement  seemed  suddenly  to  take 
possession  of  the  whole  encampment. 

Rex  knew  that  his  fate  had  been  decided,  that 
he  was  doomed  to  the  torture,  that  the  supreme 
moment  had  come;  and  every  nerve  and  cord  and 
tendon  in  his  body  steeled  and  steadied  itself  for  the 
dread  ordeal.  He  no  longer  trembled,  he  had  every 
nerve  and  muscle  under  control;  and,  when  a  huge 
chief,  followed  by  six  warriors,  forced  his  way 
through  the  screaming  threatening  squaws  and 
papooses  to  his  side,  and,  cutting  the  thongs  that 
bound  him  to  the  tree  with  one  blow  of  his  toma- 
hawk, motioned  him  to  arise,  Rex  arose  and  faced 
him  with  dauntless  mien  and  unafraid  eyes. 

"Ugh,  heap  brave  white  papoose !"  and  something 
like  admiration  shone  in  the  somber  eyes  of  the 
chief.  "Indian  love  brave  men.  No  kill  like 
squaw.  Kill  like  brave  warrior.  Come,"  and  the 


292          With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

chief,  motioning  Rex  to  follow,  turned  his  broad 
back  on  him  and  stalked  back  through  the  shriek- 
ing crowd  that  surged  around  them. 

The  limbs  of  Rex  were  now  free.  In  the  belt 
of  the  chief  within  easy  reach  was  the  chief's  knife. 
A  sudden  leap,  and  the  knife  would  be  in  his  hand. 
A  swift  blow,  and  the  chief  would  lie  dead — and 
he  would  fall  dead  on  his  body,  under  the  avenging 
knives  of  the  six  warriors — a  swift  and  merciful 
death,  a  thousand  times  better  than  the  slow  death 
by  torture. 

Every  muscle  in  Rex's  body  stiffened,  every  cord 
tightened,  his  eyes  were  on  the  knife,  he  was  about 
to  spring;  and  then,  as  distinctly  as  if  spoken  in 
his  ear,  he  seemed  to  hear  the  parting  words  of  Cap- 
tain Young:  "Now,  you  boys  just  make  the  best 
of  whatever  luck  comes,  and  remember  that  real 
pluck  and  grit  will  'most  always  win  out,  even  in 
the  most  desperate  situations."  His  was,  indeed, 
a  "most  desperate  situation,"  but  it  was  not  abso- 
lutely hopeless.  Something  yet  might  happen.  He 
would  give  "pluck  and  grit"  a  chance  to  "win  out ;" 
and,  lifting  his  eyes  resolutely  from  the  knife,  he 
followed  the  chief. 

Guarded  by  the  six  warriors,  Rex  was  now  con- 
ducted to  where  the  dead,  bare  trunk  of  a  huge 
tree  stood  in  the  bright  light  of  the  camp-fires. 
The  chief  gave  a  guttural  command,  and  his  back 
was  thrust  against  the  tree,  his  arms  pulled  back- 
ward and  his  hands  tightly  bound  behind  the  trunk. 


The  Killing  of  the  Buck  Elk  293 

A  large  circle  was  now  formed  around  the  pris- 
oner, its  inner  ranks  composed  of  the  warriors  and 
back  of  them  stood  the  squaws  and  papooses.  The 
light  from  the  camp-fires  brightly  illuminated  the 
wild  scene. 

Rex  knew  what  was  coming.  He  had  often 
heard  similar  scenes  described  with  shuddering 
horror  by  the  trappers  around  their  camp-fires; 
but  now  he  was  to  be  the  victim  himself.  He  knew 
how  the  Indians  would  gloat  over  any  signs  of  fear 
or  pain ;  and  grimly  determined  that  he  would  show 
them  that  a  white  boy  could  die  as  bravely,  as 
stoically  as  ever  an  Indian  did;  and  he  threw  back 
his  head  defiantly  and  proudly  and  looked  out 
straight  before  him  from  fearless  eyes. 

The  big  chief  now  made  a  short  speech,  which 
was  received  with  a  wild  burst  of  yells.  The  mo- 
ment 'he  ceased  speaking,  a  warrior  jumped  out 
from  the  surrounding  circle,  and,  shouting  his  war- 
whoop  and  flourishing  his  tomahawk,  danced  madly 
in  front  of  Rex  for  a  minute,  and  then,  suddenly, 
with  a  mad  yell,  threw  his  tomahawk  seemingly 
straight  at  the  head  of  Rex.  The  keen  blade  flashed 
brightly  in  the  firelight  for  an  instant  and  the  next 
it  was  buried  in  the  wood  of  the  tree  not  a  quarter 
of  an  inch  from  the  startled  boy's  head. 

The  skill  of  the  warrior  and  the  slight  involuntary 
jerk  Rex  had  given  his  head,  was  received  with 
great  applause  and  merriment;  and  the  show  went\ 
merrily  on.  Warrior  after  warrior  exhibited  his 


294         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

skill,  with  the  tomahawk,  with  the  knife,  with  the 
bow  and  arrow,  until  the  tree  around  Rex's  body 
bristled  with  tomahawks,  knives  and  arrows. 
Many  times  the  weapons  had  grazed  his  skin  and 
drew  the  blood,  but  not  once  had  he  received  a  seri- 
ous wound,  and,  even  in  his  extremity  of  peril,  Rex 
could  but  admire  the  skill  of  his  tormentors;  and 
they,  in  turn,  admired  the  fortitude  and  stoicism  of 
the  white  boy;  for,  after  that  first  jerk  of  his  head, 
Rex  had  stood  as  motionless  as  a  statue  and  faced 
the  deadly  weapons  with  steadfast  eyes. 

But  this  had  been  only  the  prelude;  now  the  real 
tragedy  was  to  begin.  At  a  word  from  the  big 
chief,  the  warriors  who  had  thrown  or  shot  the 
weapons  rushed  to  the  tree  to  withdraw  them,  while 
a  score  of  squaws  pushed  their  way  through  the 
encircling  warriors  and,  with  a  hideous  clatter  of 
tongues,  threw  down  in  a  circle  around  Rex  the 
bundles  of  dry  wood  they  carried,  and  which  were 
to  form  his  funeral  pyre;  and  an  old  hag,  chanting 
a  death-song,  began  slowly  approaching  the  pile, 
a  flaming  torch  held  high  above  her  head. 

At  the  sight  of  the  flaming  torch,  the  last  hope 
left  Rex  and  his  lips  began  to  move  in  prayer  to  the 
God  of  all;  and  then,  suddenly,  the  warrior,  who 
had  thrown  the  first  tomahawk  with  such  skill, 
uttered  a  startled  exclamation,  just  as  he  was  about 
to  draw  his  weapon  from  the  tree,  and  bent  eagerly 
^forward.  His  eyes  had  caught  the  glitter  of  the 
firelight  on  the  silver  bracelet  that  encircled  the 


The  Killing  of  the  Buck  Elk  295 

wrist  of  Rex.  For  an  instant  he  examined  the 
bracelet  closely,  for  a  moment  he  looked  intently 
into  the  face  of  Rex;  and  then,  turning  quickly,  he 
dashed  the  flaming  torch  from  the  old  hag's  hand, 
just  as  she  bent  to  thrust  it  into  the  dry  wood, 
knocking  her  sprawling  on  the  ground,  and  shouted 
something  to  the  astounded  Indians. 

In  an  instant  pandemonium  broke  loose.  A 
hundred  warriors  leaped  to  their  feet,  their  weapons 
in  their  hands,  their  eyes  glowing  with  baffled  rage, 
and  started  toward  Rex  and  his  defender,  while  the 
old  hag  set  up  an  unearthly  howling,  like  a  wolf 
driven  from  food,  and  slunk  swiftly  away.  But, 
before  the  angry  warriors  could  reach  the  tree 
where  the  astounded  boy  stood  wondering  what  was 
happening,  the  big  chief,  with  a  tremendous  bound, 
sprang  directly  in  front  of  Rex,  and  facing  his  rag- 
ing warriors,  threw  up  both  his  hands  in  a  com- 
manding gesture  for  silence. 

Instantly  the  furious  warriors  stopped,  some  of 
them  not  six  feet  from  Rex  and  the  encircling  wood, 
the  howls  and  yells  ceased  and  an  ominous  silence 
followed,  while  every  eye  sought  an  explanation  for 
these  strange  acts  in  the  face  of  the  chief. 

For  a  full  minute  the  big  chief  stood  silent,  mo- 
tionless, until  the  last  sound  of  the  tumult  had  died 
away  and  the  whisperings  of  the  wind  in  the 
branches  of  the  trees  above  their  heads  could  be 
heard.  Then  he  raised  his  right  hand. 

"Brothers,"  he  said,  "we  are  warriors,  not  wolves. 


296         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

We  are  men,  not  children.  We  will  listen  to  the 
words  of  Thunder-In-The-Face,"  and  he  turned  to 
the  Indian  who  had  caused  all  this  turmoil  and  who 
had  stood,  straight  and  motionless,  by  the  side  of 
Rex.  "Speak.  Why  should  Thunder-In-The- 
Face  defend  the  white  brave  who  has  helped  to  send 
so  many  of  our  warriors  to  the  happy  hunting- 
grounds?  Their  spirits  cry  to  us  for  vengeance. 
Why  was  his  hand  stretched  forth  to  turn  aside 
that  vengeance  ?  Speak,  Thunder-In-The-Face." 

"The  white  brave  is  the  brother  of  White 
Otter.  See,  he  wears  the  medicine  bracelet  of 
White  Otter  on  his  wrist!"  and,  with  a  swift  blow 
of  his  knife,  Thunder-In-The-Face  cut  the  thongs 
that  bound  the  hands  of  Rex  behind  the  tree,  and, 
catching  hold  of  his  right  arm,  held  it  out  where 
all  could  see  the  bracelet  shining  in  the  bright  fire- 
light. "The  brother  of  White  Otter  is  my 
brother,"  he  continued,  after  a  moment's  pause  to 
allow  the  exclamations  of  his  astonished  hearers 
to  quiet  down.  "Can  an  Indian  see  his  brother 
perish  at  the  stake,  and  not  lift  his  arm?" 

The  big  chief,  at  the  name  of  White  Otter, 
started  slightly,  and,  turning  quickly,  bent  and  ex- 
amined closely  the  silver  bracelet  that  you  will  re- 
member White  Otter  had  placed  on  the  wrist  of 
Rex. 

"The  words  of  Thunder-In-The-Face  are  true," 
he  said,  straightening  up  and  again  facing  the 
circle  of  warriors.  "The  bracelet  is  the  medicine 


The  Killing  of  the  Buck  Elk  297 

bracelet  of  White  Otter.  I,  the  father  of  White 
Otter,  know,"  and  the  tone  in  which  he  spoke  the 
name  told  that  the  big  chief  was  very  proud  of  his 
son.  "But,"  continued  the  chief,  "I  know  not  how 
the  medicine  bracelet  came  on  the  wrist  of  the  white 
brave.  He  is  not  my  son.  How,  then,  can  he  be 
the  brother  of  White  Otter?  Speak,  Thunder-In- 
the-Face,  how  know  you  that  he  is  the  brother  of 
White  Otter?  How  know  you  that  White  Otter 
put  the  bracelet  on  the  white  brave's  wrist?" 

"I  have  looked  into  the  face  of  the  white  brave," 
answered  Thunder-In-The-Face,  "and  it  is  the  face 
of  the  brother  of  White  Otter.  I  saw  the  hand  of 
White  Otter  place  the  bracelet  on  the  arm  of  the 
white  brave,  as  a  token  of  their  brotherhood.  I 
heard  the  words  of  White  Otter  when  he  told  how 
the  white  brave  had  saved  him  from  the  horns  of 
the  mad  bull.  I  saw  the  dead  body  of  the  mad  bull 
lying  by  the  side  of  the  dead  body  of  the  white 
brave's  horse.  Where  is  White  Cloud,  the  pride  of 
White  Otter,  the  glory  of  his  tribe?  Was  he  not 
the  gift  of  White  Otter  to  his  white  brother? 
Would  White  Otter  give  White  Cloud  to  any  but 
a  brother?  Have  the  horse  of  the  white  brave 
brought  hither.  The  eyes  of  the  Great  Bull  will 
know  the  horse  of  his  son." 

Many  were  the  exclamations  that  had  burst  from 
the  lips  of  the  surrounding  warriors  during  these 
words  of  Thunder-In-The-Face,  and  the  faces  of 
some  had  softened,  but  the  fires  of  rage  still  blazed 


298        With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

furiously  in  the  eyes  of  the  majority,  and  the 
squaws  still  wailed  and  howled  back  of  the  warriors. 

"Let  the  horse  of  the  white  brave  be  brought/' 
commanded  Great  Bull,  the  moment  Thunder-In- 
The-Face  ceased  speaking. 

A  few  minutes  later  a  couple  of  young  Indians 
appeared  leading  White  Cloud  between  them. 
The  noble  horse  nickered  and  stretched  out  his  nose 
toward  Rex,  the  moment  he  was  brought  to  a  stop 
in  front  of  the  big  chief. 

"The  horse  is  White  Cloud,"  declared  Great 
Bull,  as  he  stroked  the  curved  neck  of  the  beautiful 
animal.  "And  White  Cloud  was  the  horse  of 
White  Otter,  my  son.  The  words  of  Thunder-In- 
The-Face  are  true.  The  white  brave  is  the  white 
brother  of  White  Otter ;  for  he  wears  the  medicine 
bracelet  and  rides  the  horse  White  Otter  gave  to  his 
white  brother."  The  big  chief  paused,  drew  him- 
self up  to  his  full  height,  and,  stretching  out  his 
right  arm  palm  outward,  said,  with  quiet  delibera- 
tion: "The  brother  of  White  Otter  is  my  son. 
He  shall  go  free.  I  have  spoken.  He  shall  go 
free,"  he  repeated,  as  he  saw  the  angry  glare  that 
flashed  into  the  eyes  of  many  of  the  surrounding 
warriors.  "I,  the  father  of  the  son  whose  life  he 
saved  from  the  horns  of  the  mad  bull,  demand  his 
freedom.  If  there  be  any  who  would  dispute  the 
justice  of  this  demand,  let  him  draw  his  knife  and 
stand  forth.  The  Great  Spirit  will  be  our  judge/1 
and,  laying  his  hand  on  the  haft  of  the  knife  in  his 


The  Killing  of  the  Buck  Elk  299 

belt,  his  eyes  searched  the  circle  of  glowering  faces 
around  him. 

Not  a  warrior  accepted  the  challenge,  although 
there  were  many  guttural  growls  of  discontent, 
which  quickly  died  away  under  the  stern  and  stead- 
fast eyes  of  the  chief. 

"It  is  well.  Bring  hither  the  weapons  of  my 
white  son  and  the  saddle  and  bridle  of  his  horse." 

They  were  quickly  brought  and  laid  at  the  feet 
of  Rex. 

"The  brother  of  White  Otter  will  rest  in  the  tent 
of  his  father,  until  the  light  of  the  morning  makes 
plain  the  trails  of  the  mountains.  Then  Great  Bull 
will  show  him  the  way  to  his  friends.  Come,"  and 
he  motioned  Rex  to  pick  up  his  saddle  and  bridle  and 
weapons  and  follow  him. 

Of  course  Rex  had  not  understood  a  word  of  all 
this  talk ;  and  you  can  imagine  the  condition  of  mind 
he  was  in  while  these  stormy  scenes  were  raging 
around  him,  how  his  hopes  rose  and  fell,  and  some- 
thing of  the  joy  that  thrilled  through  him,  when  at 
last,  the  chief  motioned  him  to  pick  up  his  own  rifle 
and  to  follow  him;  for  now  he  knew  that  for  the 
present  at  least  he  was  safe,  that  the  Indians  would 
never  have  restored  his  weapons  to  him  had  they 
intended  to  kill  him.  Then,  too  he  had  made  a 
shrewd  guess  from  the  actions  of  Thunder-In-The- 
Face  and  the  big  chief  and  the  parts  White  Cloud 
and  the  bracelet  had  played,  that  White  Otter  was 
in  some  way  connected  with  his  deliverance;  but 


300         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

he  could  not  understand  just  how  it  all  had  been 
brought  about  until  he  was  in  the  tent  of  Great  Bull 
and  had  listened  to  the  chief's  explanations  in  his 
broken  English. 

The  next  morning,  as  soon  as  it  was  light,  Great 
Bull,  accompanied  by  a  half  dozen  picked  war- 
riors, rode  with  Rex,  mounted  on  his  beloved  White 
Cloud,  out  of  that  secluded  little  mountain  valley 
that  had  come  so  near  to  being  his  grave.  At  the 
end  of  an  hour's  riding  one  of  the  Indians  who  had 
been  doing  scout  duty  ahead,  returned  and  reported 
that  a  small  party  of  white  men  were  cautiously 
making  their  way  in  their  direction. 

"Your  friends  there,"  the  big  chief  said,  turning 
to  Rex,  after  listening  to  this  report,  and  pointing 
in  the  direction  where  the  scout  had  informed  him 
the  white  men  were.  "You  go  to  them.  Great 
Bull  happy  to  save  life  of  white  brave  who  save  life 
of  White  Otter,  his  son.  Good-by.  How — how," 
and  the  big  chief  gave  Rex  his  hand,  then,  wheeling 
his  horse  about,  galloped  off,  followed  by  his 
braves. 

Half  an  hour  later  Rex  was  relating  his  ad- 
ventures to  an  intensely  interested  group  of  listen- 
ers— Kit  Carson  and  Captain  Tom  and  twelve  of 
the  trappers,  who  were  on  the  trail  of  his  captors. 
The  others  had  been  left  to  guard  the  camp. 

"Wai,  I'll  be  durned!"  was  the  characteristic 
comment  of  Hammer  Jones,  when  Rex  had  ended 


Tne  Killing  of  the  Buck  Elk  301 

his  narration.  "That's  tew  Ingines  that  otter  have 
been  horned  white." 

"I  know  Great  Bull/'  Kit  Carson  said  quietly. 
"He  is  the  most  powerful  chief  in  all  the  Blackfoot 
tribe.  I  doubt  if  any  other  Indian  could  have 
taken  you  right  out  of  the  clutches  of  the  red  devils, 
without  a  fight.  But,"  and  his  firm  lips  came  to- 
gether tightly,  "where  is  Dill?" 

"He— he— I— I— Didn't  he  get  to  camp?"  cried 
the  horrified  boy,  his  face  whitening  and  his  whole 
body  trembling.  "Then  the  Indians  must  have  got 
him,  too !" 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  AMBUSCADE 

COR  a  minute  after  that  dread  conjecture  of 
Rex,  with  which  the  last  chapter  closed,  no 
one  spoke,  and  there  was  not  a  face  in  the  company 
that  did  not  whiten.  All  knew  what  capture  by 
the  Blackfeet  Indians  meant.  Then  Kit  Carson 
turned  to  Rex  in  his  quick  decisive  way. 

"You  neither  saw  nor  heard  anything  of  Dill  or 
of  any  other  white  captive  in  the  encampment 
where  you  were  ?"  he  asked. 

"No." 

"Then  he  was  not  there — and  yet  there,  to  their 
stronghold,  is  where  they  would  take  him,  if  he 
were  alive,"  he  added  under  his  breath. 

For  a  minute  or  two  Kit  Carson  stood  silent, 
deep  in  thought,  then  his  face  cleared  and  he  turned 
decisively  to  Captain  Tom  and  Steeltrap  Smith. 

"My  belief  is,"  he  said,  "that  the  party  of  In- 
dians who  captured  Dill  did  not  have  time  to  reach 
their  valley  stronghold  last  night  before  it  became 
too  dark  for  them  to  travel  safely.  If  I  am  right, 
they  will  try  to  get  there  this  morning;  and  we 
must  try  to  cut  them  off  before  they  can  do  so. 
That  is  my  judgment." 

302 


The  Ambuscade  303 

"My  judgment,  too,"  Captain  Tom  declared. 

"Then,  let's  git  after  th'  red  devils,"  Steeltrap 
Smith  exclaimed  impatiently.  "  'Tain't  no  time 
for  discussin'.  I  reckon  we're  all  willin'  tew  trust 
tew  your  jedgement,  Kit.  Only  git  us  in  sight  of 
them  Inguns  that's  got  th'  boy  as  quick  as  th' 
Lord'll  let  you.  'Tain't  pleasant  tew  think  of  Dill 
in  th'  hands  of  them  devils."  The  old  trapper's 
face  was  white  with  anxiety  and  his  eyes  seemed  on 
fire  in  their  sockets.  He  knew  what  Blackfoot  tor- 
ture meant ! 

"Can  you  take  us  to  a  point  where  the  Indians 
must  pass  to  reach  this  mountain  stronghold?"  and 
Kit  Carson  turned  swiftly  to  Rex. 

"Yes.  They  must  pass  through  a  narrow  valley 
about  a  couple  of  miles  from  here.  At  least  that  is 
the  way  we  came  out." 

"Then  lead  us  there  at  once.  Every  man  see 
that  his  rifle  is  ready  for  instant  use.  Fall  in 
single  file.  Move  as  silently  as  possible.  Remem- 
ber your  ears  and  eyes  are  now  guarding  your 
lives.  Forward!"  and  Kit  Carson  took  his  station 
by  the  side  of  Rex  and  signified  that  he  was  ready 
to  start. 

Rex  now  had  an  opportunity  to  see  the  famous 
Kit  Carson  in  action.  He  rode  erect,  sitting  in  his 
saddle  as  if  he  were  a  part  of  the  horse,  his  left 
hand  grasping  the  reins,  his  right  holding  his  rifle 
across  the  pommel  of  his  saddle  in  such  a  way  that 
it  could  be  instantly  thrown  to  his  shoulder,  and  his 


304         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

wonderful  eyes,  keen,  searching,  flashing  their 
swift  glances  to  the  front  and  to  the  sides — every 
sense  acutely  alert  to  every  sound  and  movement 
that  might  mean  danger.  As  they  rode  on  no  one 
spoke;  no  one  made  an  unnecessary  sound.  Even 
the  horses  seemed  to  feel  the  danger  and  the  need 
of  silence,  and  moved  almost  without  a  sound.  At 
any  moment  the  dread  war-whoop  of  the  Blackfeet 
might  ring  in  their  ears,  at  any  moment  their 
arrows  and  bullets  might  come  whistling  after  their 
lives;  for  they  were  now  riding  through  a  country 
where  ambuscading  would  be  easy,  and  they  had  no 
time  to  guard  themselves  against  it.  They  must 
take  their  chances. 

Suddenly,  just  as  they  were  entering  the  narrow 
valley  Rex  had  spoken  of,  Kit  Carson  brought  his 
horse  to  a  halt  and  held  up  his  hand  for  silence. 
His  keen  ears  had  heard  a  suspicious  sound.  In- 
stantly every  man  and  horse  was  transformed  into 
equestrian  statues. 

Rex  strained  his  eyes  and  ears,  but  he  could  hear 
nothing,  see  nothing. 

"They  are  coming!"  whispered  Kit  Carson. 
"Quick!  In  the  brush  on  both  sides  of  the  valley. 
We  must  ambuscade  them.  Captain  Tom  take  six 
of  the  men  to  the  other  side  of  the  valley.  The  rest 
will  remain  here  with  me.  My  rifle  will  fire  the 
signal  shot." 

Captain  Tom,  with  six  of  the  trappers,  instantly 
hurried,  but  so  silently  that  Rex  could  not  hear  a 


The  Ambuscade  305 

sound,  to  the  other  side  of  the  valley,  where  trees 
and  rocks  afforded  ample  concealment  for  horses 
and  men.  Kit  Carson,  as  swiftly  and  as  silently, 
hid  his  men  and  horses  behind  rocks  and  trees  on 
his  side  of  the  valley.  In  three  minutes  after  the 
command  was  given,  not  a  man  nor  horse  was  to  be 
seen,  and  the  valley  looked  as  quiet  and  as  peaceful 
as  an  Arcadian  dale. 

The  open  and  level  part  of  the  valley  was  not 
over  ten  rods  wide,  with  a  steep  ridge  of  rocks 
covered  with  trees  lying  along  each  side.  An  ideal 
place  for  an  ambuscade;  and  Kit  Carson  had  been 
quick  to  make  the  most  of  all  its  advantages. 

Rex  found  himself  behind  a  mass  of  rocks,  with 
Steeltrap  Smith  for  a  comrade.  As  yet  he  had 
heard  no  sound  nor  seen  a  sign  of  the  advancing 
Indians.  But  now,  coming  faintly  from  far  down 
the  valley,  he  could  hear  the  sound  of  horses'  hoof 
beats  and  the  voices  of  men.  The  eyes  of  Steel- 
trap  Smith  glistened  as  he  listened. 

"I  reckon  they're  so  near  home  that  they  feel 
safe,  or  they'd  be  more  keerful,"  he  said.  "An'  no- 
body's but  Kit's  eyes  could  have  followed  'em  here. 
Now,  jest  be  keerful  tew  keep  out  of  sight,  when  th' 
shootin'  begins,"  and  his  eyes  dwelt  on  Rex  with 
an  anxiety  curious  in  its  intensity.  "We  don't 
want  to  be  sendin'  back  no  death  notices  tew  your 
dad." 

"I  have  no  father,"  Rex  answered,  his  face 
saddening.  "He — he  was  killed  by  the  Blackfeet 


306         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

about  ten  years  ago.  At  least  he  was  captured  by 
them,  and  we  have  never  heard  a  word  of  him 
since;  and — and  you  know  what  that  means." 

For  a  minute  or  more  Steeltrap  sat  looking 
steadily  into  the  eyes  of  Rex,  an  expression  on  his 
face  that  almost  frightened  the  boy,  then  he  swiftly 
brushed  one  of  his  hands  across  his  clouded  fore- 
head. 

"I — I  sometimes  think  I  must  have  had  a  boy/' 
he  said,  as  his  eyes  darkened.  "I — I — "  He 
struggled  as  if  vainly  trying  to  grip  some  memory, 
moved  his  eyes  from  the  face  of  Rex,  glanced  down 
the  valley — and  gripped  his  rifle. 

"Thar,  thar  they  come !"  he  cried,  his  face  clear- 
ing and  the  hard  lights  coming  back  into  his  eyes. 

Yes,  there  they  came !  Twenty-five  Indian  war- 
riors on  their  war-ponies,  riding  slowly  up  the 
valley,  looking  watchfully  to  the  right  and  to  the 
left,  but  making  no  effort  to  keep  their  voices  quiet. 
Evidently  they  felt  confident  that  they  were  safe 
beyond  pursuit. 

Rex's  eyes  searched  their  ranks  eagerly  for  Dill ; 
and  presently  they  saw  him.  He  was  riding,  ap- 
parently unhurt  and  unbound,  by  the  side  of  a  tall 
young  Indian  chief. 

"There  he  is!"  whispered  the  excited  boy  to 
Steeltrap  Smith.  "There  he  is  by  the  side  of  that 
young  Indian;  and  I  don't  believe  that  he  is  hurt 
a  bit.  Oh,  I  wish  I  could  yell!" 

"Keep   quiet!"   and   Steeltrap   Smith   turned   a 


The  Ambuscade  307 

stern  face  to  him.  "If  you  don't  want  tew  see  that 
youngster  killed  afore  your  eyes,  keep  quiet.  Our 
only  chance  tew  save  him  is  tew  take  them  Inguns 
by  surprise.  It  they  git  th'  chance  they'll  kill  him 
afore  they'll  let  us  git  him.  Now,  don't  you  dare 
tew  move  so  much  as  an  eye-winker,  'til  Kit  gives 
th'  signel.  Then  give  it  tew  'em  hot." 

On  came  the  Indians,  riding  slowly  near  the 
center  of  the  open  space  in  the  valley,  utterly  un- 
conscious of  their  deadly  peril,  their  plumes  and 
blankets  fluttering  in  the  breeze  and  their  lance 
heads  and  ornaments  glittering  in  the  bright  sun- 
light. Now  they  were  almost  between  the  two 
parties  of  ambuscading  trappers,  and  so  near  that 
Rex  could  see  the  features  of  Dill  distinctly.  He 
was  very  pale  and  a  streak  of  red  down  one  side  of 
his  face  showed  that  he  had  been  hurt.  Now  they 
were  directly  between  the  two  bodies  of  hidden 
trappers. 

Rex's  finger  was  on  the  trigger  of  his  rifle,  his 
eye  glancing  along  its  barrel,  ready  for  the  signal. 
His  heart  was  thumping  madly.  Oh,  would  the 
signal  never  come? 

BANG! 

Then,  BANG— BANG— BANG— the  twelve 
rifles  spoke  almost  with  one  voice. 

"At  them,  boys!"  yelled  Kit  Carson,  leaping 
down  the  ridge. 

Rex  jumped  up  from  behind  the  rock,  and  raced 
down  the  ridge,  yelling  insanely.  All  the  trappers 


308         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

were  yelling  like  fiends.  His  one  desire  was  to  get 
to  Dill  as  quickly  as  possible.  Steeltrap  Smith  ran 
close  by  his  side.  Almost  before  Rex  knew  it,  his 
arms  were  around  Dill ;  and  he  was  watching  with 
breathless  interest  a  tremendous  struggle  between 
Hammer  Jones  and  the  young  Indian  chief.  Both 
had  dropped  their  knives;  and  now,  with  arms 
locked  around  each  other's  bodies,  each  was  striv- 
ing to  throw  the  other  and  to  regain  his  knife. 
The  muscles  of  the  young  Indian  seemed  made  of 
steel  springs,  so  strong,  so  sudden  were  his  move- 
ments. For  a  minute  it  seemed  as  if  even  the  giant 
frame  and  great  strength  of  Hammer  Jones  would 
not  be  able  to  overcome  them.  Then  Ham  got  the 
hold  he  wanted;  and,  suddenly,  the  Indian  went 
down,  flat  on  his  back^jAdth  Ham  on  top  of  him,  his 
strong  hands  gripping  the  arms  of  the  Indian  in 
such  a  way  as  to  render  him  helpless. 

"Hand  me  my  knife  somebody,"  panted  Ham, 
"an'  I'll  soon  make  this  devil  lay  still." 

The  knife  lay  at  the  feet  of  Rex,  and,  stooping 
quickly,  he  seized  it  and  hurried  to  the  side  of  Ham. 

The  Indian  now  lay  quiet.  He  had  ceased  to 
struggle.  He  was  composing  himself  for  the 
death-blow.  His  eyes  were  fixed  in  defiant  scorn 
on  the  face  of  his  antagonist. 

Rex  handed  the  knife  to  Ham,  glanced  at  the 
face  of  the  young  chief — and  suddenly  threw  his 
arms  around  the  upraised  arm  of  Hammer  Jones. 


The  Ambuscade  309 

"It's  White  Otter!"  he  yelled.  "Do  not  kill 
him !  You  shall  not  kill  him !" 

Ham  shook  his  arm  free,  thrust  his  knife  into  his 
belt  and  rose  to  his  feet. 

"Wai,  I'll  be  durned!"  and  he  stared  blankly 
from  the  face  of  the  young  Indian  to  the  face  of 
Rex. 

Rex  instantly  sprang  to  the  side  of  White  Otter, 
and,  catching  hold  of  one  of  his  arms,  helped  him 
to  his  feet,  and  stood  defiantly  by  his  side. 

The  young  Indian  chief  stood  motionless  by  the 
side  of  Rex,  his  eyes  glancing  calmly  around  the 
circle  of  trappers  that  now  surrounded  them.  He 
appeared  the  least  excited,  the  least  interested,  of 
all  the  actors  in  this  dramatic  scene. 

All  the  other  Indians,  who  had  not  been  killed 
by  the  volley  of  the  trappers,  had  fled  at  the  first 
sight  of  the  trappers  rushing  down  upon  them  from 
both  sides  of  the  valley.  The  horse  of  White  Otter 
had  fallen,  with  a  bullet  through  his  head,  and,  as 
the  young  chief  jumped  to  his  feet,  Hammer  Jones 
had  leaped  upon  him,  and  the  struggle  already  de- 
scribed had  taken  place.  He  now  stood  by  the  side 
of  Rex,  alone,  surrounded  by  his  white  enemies. 

"White  Otter  is  my  brother.  He  gave  me  White 
Cloud.  His  father,  Great  Bull,  has  just  saved  me 
from  death  by  torture,  because  his  son,  White 
Otter,  is  my  brother.  White  Otter  must  not  be 
harmed.  He  must  be  allowed  to  go  free,"  and  Rex 


310         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

glanced   appealingly   around   the   circle   of   faces. 

"Them  is  my  sentiments,  tew,"  and  Hammer 
Jones  stepped  to  the  other  side  of  White  Otter. 
"Shake.  You're  th'  whitest  Ingine  an'  th'  toughest 
skinful  of  bones  an'  muscles,  white  or  red,  for  your 
heft,  I  ever  tackled,"  and  Ham  grabbed  the  hand 
of  the  young  chief  and  shook  it  heartily. 

"Yes,  White  Otter  shall  go  free,"  and,  with  a 
smile  on  his  pleasant  face,  Kit  Carson  approached 
the  young  Indian.  "Carry  to  the  Great  Bull,  your 
father,  our  thanks,"  he  continued,  addressing  the 
chief,  "for  saving  your  white  brother  from  the 
hands  of  the  torturers  and  giving  him  his  freedom. 
Tell  him  the  white  trappers  know  how  to  return 
good  for  good,  evil  for  evil,  bullets  for  bullets. 
Tell  him  that  his  son,  the  White  Otter,  is  worthy 
of  the  great  chief,  his  father.  Now  go.  You  are 
free.  The  white  trappers  must  not  linger  so  near 
the  stronghold  of  the  Blackfeet." 

The  young  chief  turned,  and,  taking  the  hand  of 
Rex,  placed  it  on  his  naked  bosom  over  his  heart. 

"Twice  has  my  white  brother  saved  the  life  of 
White  Otter,"  he  said,  in  his  soft  pleasant  voice. 
"As  long  as  the  heart  under  your  hand  beats  will 
White  Otter  remember  his  white  brother.  The 
hatchet  is  buried  forever  between  us.  We  are 
brothers,  not  enemies.  Farewell,"  and,  turning 
from  Rex,  the  young  chief  glanced  calmly  around 
the  circle  of  his  enemies;  and  then  walked  slowly 
away,  not  once  turning  his  head  nor  hastening  a 


The  Ambuscade  311 

single  footstep,  and  thus  passed  out  of  view  over  a 
small  ridge  a  dozen  rods  up  the  valley. 

"Now,"  and  Kit  Carson  turned  to  the  trappers 
"we  must  get  out  of  here  just  as  fast  as  our  horses 
legs  will  take  us,  or  we  will  have  the  whole  tribe  of 
Blackfeet   whooping   down   upon   us.     Everybody 
mount,"  and  he  sprang  upon  the  back  of  his  horse 
and  led  the  way  back  to  the  trail  to  California. 

That  night,  when  all  were  safely  back  in  camp, 
Kit  Carson  summoned  the  two  boys;  and  told  them 
that  henceforth  they  must  understand  that  he  never 
gave  one  of  his  men  a  command  that  he  did  not 
think  necessary,  and  that  he  never  gave  a  command 
that  he  did  not  expect  to  be  obeyed  to  the  letter.  He 
then  showed  them  that,  if  Rex  had  obeyed  him  and 
not  followed  the  elk  beyond  sight  of  the  trail,  and, 
if  Dill  had  obeyed  him  and  not  followed  Rex  out  of 
sight  of  the  trail,  neither  of  them  would  have  been 
captured  by  the  Blackfeet,  and  that  all  of  this  delay 
and  trouble  and  bloodshed — six  Indians  had  been 
killed — would  have  been  avoided. 

Rex  and  Dill  had  nothing  to  say  in  their  defense, 
and  returned  to  their  tent  with  a  new  lesson  on  the 
necessity  of  strict  obedience  in  their  hearts. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
THE  DEVIL'S  MOUTH 

'"THE  next  morning  the  journey  to  California  was 
*     resumed. 

Two  days  later  our  friends  entered  the  fertile  and 
picturesque  Valley  of  the  Bear  River,  a  stream  some 
two  hundred  feet  wide,  fringed  with  willows  and 
hawthorns,  which  flowed  into  the  Great  Salt  Lake, 
that  wonderful  inland  sea,  over  whose  salty  waters 
the  superstitions  of  the  trappers  and  the  Indians  had 
thrown  a  veil  of  romantic  and  mysterious  interest. 

They  were  now  in  a  region  of  many  natural 
wonders,  of  fearsome  dread  to  the  superstitious  In- 
dians, who  believed  it  to  be  the  abode  of  the  Great 
Spirit,  and  who  shunned  its  more  awesome  places 
with  religious  dread.  They  had  passed  out  of  the 
country  frequented  by  the  terrible  Blackfeet;  and, 
consequently,  they  had  little  to  fear  from  the  In- 
dians, but  the  caution  of  Kit  Carson  did  not  allow 
them  to  relax  their  vigilance  in  the  least. 

Rex  and  Dill  had  heard  much  about  a  number  of 
strange  mineral  springs  that  the  trappers  called  the 
Beer  Springs  from  Steeltrap  Smith  and  the  other 
trappers,  who  had  been  through  this  section  of  the 
country  before;  and,  when,  late  one  afternoon,  the 

312 


The  Devil's  Mouth  313 

little  cavalcade,  rode  down  into  a  basin-like  valley 
lying  close  to  the  north  bank  of  the  Bear  River  and 
went  into  camp  in  a  grove  of  cedar  only  a  few  rods 
from  one  of  the  largest  of  these  springs,  the  boys 
could  hardly  wait  to  properly  care  for  and  picket 
their  horses  before  starting  out  to  investigate  the 
wonders  of  the  place. 

"Am  dat  dar  spring  jes'  a-bubblin'  beer  right  up 
out  ob  de  ground,  like  it  was  wattah?"  Pom  in- 
quired wonderingly  of  the  two  boys,  as  accompanied 
by  the  negro  boy,  they  hurried  to  the  side  of  the 
spring  for  their  first  drink  of  its  waters. 

"Sure,"  Rex  replied  smiling,  "and  you  can  drink 
all  you  can  hold  without  its  costing  you  a  cent." 

"Den  dis  niggah  done  gwine  to  come  mighty  nigh 
busticatin'  his  ab-dom-a-men,"  and  Pom  began  un- 
loosening his  trouser's  belt  and  otherwise  preparing 
for  the  drink  of  his  life. 

They  soon  reached  the  side  of  the  spring,  and 
found  its  waters  effervescing  and  bubbling  like  a 
huge  caldron  of  veritable  beer. 

"Golly!  Dat  sho'ly  am  beer!"  and  the  mouth  of 
Pom  made  a  dive  for  the  effervescing  waters. 

In  another  moment  Pom's  thick  lips  were  sucking 
up  the  water  like  a  steam  pump ;  but,  suddenly  the 
sucking  stopped,  and,  straightening  up  with  a  jerk, 
he  spit  out  about  a  quart  of  water  and  rose  to  his 
feet,  a  look  of  extreme  disgust  on  his  fat  face. 

"Dat  ain't  no  mo'  beer  dan  sourkrout  am  plum- 
puddin',"  he  declared,  "  'less  it  am  de  debbel's  beer," 


314         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

he  amended.  "I  done  smelled  de  brimstone/'  and 
nothing  could  prevail  upon  him  to  take  another  drink 
of  its  waters,  nor  of  the  waters  of  any  of  the  other 
effervescing  springs. 

Rex  and  Dill  both  drank  of  the  bubbling  waters, 
and  found  them  to  have  a  slightly  acid  pungent 
taste,  not  altogether  disagreeable;  but  both  of  the 
boys  agreed  that  nobody  would  ever  get  drunk  on 
beer,  if  all  of  the  beer  in  the  world  came  from  these 
springs. 

There  were  a  large  number  of  similar  springs  in 
the  basin,  and  the  surface  of  the  river  for  a  couple 
of  hundred  yards  was  in  constant  agitation  from  the 
escaping  gases. 

About  a  mile  to  the  west  of  the  Beer  Springs  and 
only  a  few  feet  from  the  river,  Rex  and  Dill  found 
another  spring  that  awakened  their  curiosity  and 
wonder  even  more  than  did  the  Beer  Springs. 
Here,  through  an  opening  in  a  large  red  rock,  a 
white  column  of  water  and  foam  was  being  con- 
stantly thrown  upward  to  a  height  of  some  three 
feet,  accompanied  by  subterranean  noises,  not  un- 
like the  sounds  of  a  steamboat  in  motion.  From 
this  sound  and  motion  some  fanciful  trapper  had 
given  the  spring  the  name  of  Steamboat  Spring. 
They  found  the  water  hot  and  of  a  disagreeable 
bitter  taste. 

Suddenly,  while  they  were  examining  this  spring, 
Pom,  who  had  sat  down  on  a  near-by  rock,  uttered 
a  yell  of  terror  and  bounded  up  into  the  air,  as  if  a 


The  Devil's  Mouth  315 

charge  of  dynamite  had  been  exploded  under  him. 
The  moment  he  lit  on  his  feet,  he  leaped  off,  casting 
frightened  glances  behind  him,  and  did  not  stop 
until  he  had  put  a  dozen  rods  between  him  and  the 
rock  where  he  had  been  sitting. 

Rex  and  Dill  jumped  at  the  sound  of  the  negro's 
wild  yell,  and  whirled  about ;  but,  seeing  nothing  to 
cause  his  fright,  stared  after  him  in  amazement. 

"Come  erway  frum  dar  quick!"  yelled  the  ter- 
rified negro.  "De  debble  am  in  dat  rock  fo'  sho'. 
He  done  blowed  me  off  dat  rock  wid  one  hot  breff 
frum  his  hot  lungs — Golly,  dar  he  blow  ag'in !"  and 
with  bulging  eyes  the  horrified  negro  boy  stared  at 
the  rock  on  which  he  had  been  so  recently  sitting. 

Rex  and  Dill  turned  quickly,  and  saw  a  light 
wreath  of  smoke  shoot  up  from  the  rock  accom- 
panied by  a  sharp  hissing  noise,  like  the  escape  of 
steam  from  an  exhaust-pipe.  For  a  moment  both 
boys  stared  in  astonishment  at  the  smoke;  and  then 
burst  into  hearty  laughter,  as  the  cause  of  Pom's 
fright  dawned  upon  them.  He  had  seated  himself 
directly  over  a  small  hole,  about  an  inch  in  diameter, 
in  the  rock,  through  which,  at  regular  intervals,  a 
hot  blast  of  air  and  smoke  was  shot,  with  a  sharp 
hissing  sound.  Naturally  the  fat  body  of  Pom  had 
closed  this  vent  tightly  and  delayed  the  blast,  until 
the  subterranean  forces  could  gather  sufficient  power 
for  the  hot  blast  to  blow  him  off  the  opening,  with 
the  result  that  Pom  felt  sure  that  he  had  been  hit  by 
a  breath  of  hot  air  fresh  from  the  devil's  hot  mouth, 


316         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

and  no  persuadings  of  Rex  and  Dill  could  get  him 
to  come  a  step  nearer  to  "de  debble's  motiff/'  as  he 
called  the  rock. 

Rex  and  Dill  would  gladly  have  lingered  longer 
in  this  land  of  wonders,  for,  in  whatever  direction 
they  looked  they  saw  something  to  awaken  their  cu- 
riosity and  interest ;  but  Kit  Carson  was  too  anxious 
to  get  to  California  to  delay  a  moment  for  the  pur- 
pose of  studying  the  beauties  and  wonders  of  nat- 
ure, and  early  the  next  morning  the  cavalcade  of 
trappers  was  again  on  its  way  toward  the  setting 
sun. 

For  many  days  they  now  journeyed  westward, 
sometimes  through  barren  stretches  of  country, 
where  there  was  neither  food  nor  water  for  man  or 
beast  and  where  Rex  and  Dill  first  learnt  the  tor- 
tures of  hunger  and  thirst,  sometimes  through  de- 
lightful valleys,  where  game  was  abundant,  grass 
and  water  plentiful  and  the  eyes  were  greeted  by  a 
constant  succession  of  beautiful  scenes,  and  some- 
times the  trail  took  them  along  the  precipitous  sides 
of  lofty  mountains,  down  into  walled  canyons, 
through  mighty  mountain  gateways,  where  every 
prospect  was  sublime  with  a  wild  grandeur  and 
beauty  no  pen  could  describe  and  no  brush  could 
picture.  They  saw  many  Indians  belonging  to 
many  tribes ;  but  all  were  friendly  to  the  whites  and 
they  had  no  serious  trouble  with  them. 

Thus  traveling,  day  after  day,  never  stopping,  ex- 
cept to  camp  at  night  and  to  rest  and  eat  at  noon, 


The  Devil's  Mouth  317 

they  pressed  ever  westward — the  wonderful  knowl- 
edge, instinct,  intuition — call  it  what  you  will — of 
Kit  Carson  and  Steeltrap  Smith  almost  never  being 
at  fault — and  finally  crossed  the  last  ridge  of  moun- 
tains, and,  one  warm  sunny  August  afternoon,  en- 
tered the  beautiful  Sacramento  Valley  and  camped 
that  night  within  a  day's  ride  of  their  journey's  end, 
the  Mission  of  San  Rafael. 

Rex  and  Dill,  during  this  long  ride  westward,  had 
become  close  friends  with  Steeltrap  Smith.  The 
old  trapper,  whenever  his  duties  permitted  was  al- 
ways by  the  side  of  one  of  the  boys.  Their  youth 
and  the  enthusiasm  that  always  goes  with  youth, 
seemed  to  strike  some  long-hidden  chord  in  the 
lonely  man's  nature,  and  set  it  to  vibrating  with 
hopes  and  feelings  that  had  long  been  slumbering. 
Sometimes  he  would  ride  for  hours  by  the  side  of 
Rex,  hardly  uttering  a  word,  his  eyes  constantly 
turning  to  the  face  of  the  boy,  with  a  questioning 
wondering  look  in  them  that  always  made  Rex  un- 
easy. Once  Rex  plucked  up  courage  to  ask  him 
why  he  looked  at  him  so  strangely,  and  the  old 
trapper's  brows  had  clouded. 

"I  don't  know  jest  why,"  he  replied,  "but  thar's 
somethin'  in  your  face,  like  a  half-remembered 
dream,  that  makes  me  want  tew  look  at  you.  You 
don't  mind?"  he  added  wistfully;  and  all  the  re- 
mainder of  that  day  he  looked  so  gloomy  and  sad 
that  neither  boy  had  the  heart  to  question  him  again. 

Both  lads  had  learned  from  Kit  Carson  all  that  he 


318         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

knew  about  the  papers  in  the  possession  of  the 
brother  in  the  Mission  of  San  Rafael,  and  which 
they  had  come  so  far  to  secure.  It  was  little.  He 
had  never  seen  the  papers,  and  had  only  heard  Dill's 
Uncle  Manuel  speak  of  them  as  possibly  containing 
some  information  that  might  be  of  value  to  Noel 
Conroyal,  but  what  that  information  was  he  did  not 
have  the  slightest  idea. 

And  now  that  the  two  boys  were  at  last  so  near  to 
the  mission,  after  so  many  weary  weeks  of  journey- 
ing and  waiting,  their  anxiety  to  see  the  brother  and 
fathom  the  mystery  that  had  sent  them  half-way 
across  a  continent,  through  the  perils  of  an  un- 
known wilderness,  became  almost  unbearable;  and 
that  last  night  in  the  Valley  of  the  Sacramento,  be- 
fore they  reached  San  Rafael,  seemed  to  the  boys 
the  longest  night  they  had  ever  passed,  so  eager 
were  they  for  the  last  day  of  their  long  journey  to 
dawn. 

The  next  morning  Rex  and  Dill  were  the  first 
ones  up  in  camp. 

"Rout  out!  Turn  out!  Everybody  get  up!" 
they  shouted,  as  they  ran  from  man  to  man,  dump- 
ing them  out  of  their  blankets.  "We're  almost 
there.  Hurrah  for  the  Mission  of  San  Rafael!" 

By  sunrise  the  cavalcade  was  again  in  motion. 

Rex  and  Dill  now  rode  at  the  head  of  the  com- 
pany, along  with  Kit  Carson  and  Steeltrap  Smith. 
At  the  top  of  every  rise  of  ground  they  strained 
their  eyes  westward,  hoping  to  catch  a  glimpse  of 


The  Devil's  Mouth  3*9 

the  towers  of  the  Mission  of  San  Rafael ;  but  it  was 
not  until  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  that  Kit  Car- 
son turned  to  the  two  boys  and,  with  a  smile,  said : 
"I  think  you  can  see  the  mission  buildings  from  the 
top  of  that  hill,"  and  he  pointed  to  a  small  hill  that 
rose  from  the  level  of  the  valley  a  half  a  mile  ahead 
of  them. 

With  a  glad  shout,  both  boys  were  off,  as  fast  as 
they  could  make  their  horses  go,  White  Cloud  seem- 
ing almost  to  fly,  as  he  leaped  over  the  ground, 
bringing  Rex  to  the  summit  of  the  hill  a  dozen  or 
more  rods  ahead  of  Dill. 

"Hurrah!  Hurrah!"  and  the  excited  boy  jerked 
off  his  hat  and  swung  it  around  his  head.  "We're 
there  at  last!  Yonder  are  the  mission  buildings!" 
he  shouted,  turning  to  Dill,  who  now  came  up  on  a 
gallop  and  pulled  his  horse  to  a  stop  by  the  side  of 
White  Cloud. 

Below  them  stretched  a  broad  valley,  and  in  the 
midst  of  it,  glowing  redly  in  the  warm  light  of  the 
western  sun,  were  the  fort-like  buildings  of  the  old 
Spanish  Mission  of  San  Rafael,  surrounded  by 
cultivated  fields,  while  the  neighboring  prairies 
were  covered  with  the  herds  and  flocks  of  the  mis- 
sion. 

"My,  but  those  buildings  do  look  good !"  and  the 
face  of  Rex  glowed  with  interest — Remember  it 
had  now  been  over  a  year  since  the  boys  had  seen 
the  dwelling-place  of  a  civilized  human  being — "I 
wonder  how  it  will  seem  to  sleep  once  more  under 


320         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

a  real  roof,  surrounded  by  four  solid  walls,  and  eat 
off  a  real  table,  with  a  white  table  cloth  on  it?  I 
have  almost  forgotten  how  such  things  look,"  and 
he  laughed. 

"So  have  I,"  and  Dill  joined  in  the  laugh.  "But 
I  really  haven't  missed  them.  I  didn't  suppose  be- 
fore that  a  fellow  could  get  along  with  so  little  and 
still  be  as  comfortable  as  we  have  been.  I  wonder 
if  those  papers  are  still  there,"  and  his  face  sobered, 
as  his  eyes  rested  on  the  distant  mission  buildings. 
"It  would  be  too  bad,  if,  after  all  our  trouble,  we 
should  find  them  gone." 

"Oh,  stop  your  grumping!  Of  course  we  will 
find  the  papers  there.  We  didn't  come  all  this  dis- 
tance for  nothing.  I  wonder  what  can  be  in  those 
papers,"  and  the  smooth  forehead  of  Rex  wrinkled. 
"I  don't  see  why  Uncle  Noel  should  have  made 
such  a  mystery  about  them.  Let's  have  another 
look  at  that  letter  your  father  gave  you.  Maybe 
we  were  to  open  it,  as  soon  as  we  got  to  the  mis- 


sion." 


"No,  I  think  not,  not  until  we  had  first  secured 
and  read  the  papers ;  but,  we'll  see,"  and  Dill  thrust 
his  hand  under  his  coat  and  into  a  buckskin  pocket 
strongly  sewed  to  the  bosom  of  his  shirt,  and 
drew  out  a  sealed  letter,  carefully  wrapped  in  oil- 
skin, and,  unwrapping  it,  read  the  superscription. 
"I  was  right.  See,"  and  he  handed  the  letter  to 
Rex. 

The  superscription  read : 


The  Devil's  Mouth  321 

To  DILL  CONROYAL  and  REX  HOLT. 

(  Not  to  be  opened  and  read,  until  after  they  have 
secured  and  read  the  papers  at  the  Mission  of  San 
Rafael.) 

"Yes,  you  are  right,"  and  Rex  handed  the  letter 
back  to  Dill.  "We  have  got  to  wait  until  we  get 
those  papers  before  we  know  anything  more  about 
this  mystery ;  and  I  am  glad  we  do  not  have  to  wait 
much  longer.  I  am  getting  very  anxious  to  know 
what  it  is  all  about.  Maybe  the  papers  tell  of  the 
hiding-place  of  some  treasure  that  your  Uncle  Man- 
uel had  hidden  away/'  and  his  eyes  sparkled. 
"  Wouldn't  that  be  great,  if  they  did,  and  we  should 
find  the  treasure?" 

"You  bet !"  Dill  agreed.  "And  I  wouldn't  be  sur- 
prised, if  that  was  just  it.  Come,  let's  ride  on  to- 
ward the  mission.  The  others  have  almost  caught 
up  with  us ;  and  it  doesn't  seem  as  if  I  could  wait  un- 
til we  get  inside  those  walls  and  have  a  look  at  those 
papers." 

Rex  agreeing,  the  two  boys  started  off  on  a  trot 
toward  the  distant  mission  buildings. 

Two  hours  later,  the  ragged,  patched,  travel- 
worn,  weather-beaten,  but  strong  and  hardy  band  of 
trappers  rode  through  the  mission  gates  and  halted 
in  front  of  the  mission  buildings — their  long  journey 
ended. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  PAPERS 

THE  sun  had  set  when  our  friends  entered  the 
gates  of  the  Mission  of  San  Rafael;  but,  so 
anxious  were  Rex  and  Dill  to  solve  the  mystery  of 
the  papers,  that,  the  moment  they  had  their  horses 
properly  cared  for,  both  hurried  to  Kit  Carson  and 
Captain  Tom. 

"We  want  to  find  the  brother  who  has  the  papers/' 
Dill  said,  "and  we  don't  know  his  name.  Father, 
somehow,  missed  telling  us.  How  shall  we  find 
him?" 

"But,  you  are  not  going  to  hunt  him  up  to-night? 
Can't  you  wait  until  morning?"  Kit  Carson  queried, 
smiling  at  the  excited  faces  of  the  two  boys. 

"What?  Wait  until  morning,  now  that  we  are 
here,  when  it  has  taken  us  over  a  year  to  get  here  ?" 
and  Dill  looked  at  Carson  in  astonishment.  "No; 
we  want  to  solve  the  mystery  to-night.  We  couldn't 
sleep  a  wink,  if  we  didn't." 

"Well,  I  confess  to  being  some  curious  myself 
about  the  contents  of  those  mysterious  papers," 
laughed  Carson;  "and  I  don't  want  to  wait  until 
morning  either ;  so,  I  reckon,  we'd  better  try  to  find 
the  brother  to-night  and  have  it  over.  Let  me  see, 

322 


The  Mystery  of  the  Papers  323 

your  father  gave  me  the  name  of  the  brother  in  his 
letter.  It  was  Juan.  Yes,  that  is  the  name, 
Brother  Juan.  Come  on,  and  we  will  try  to  find 
Brother  Juan,"  and  Kit  Carson  lead  the  way  toward 
the  large  door  of  the  mission  building,  near  which 
a  number  of  the  brothers  were  grouped  around  a  tall 
man,  evidently  the  ecclesiastical  head  of  the  mission. 

Kit  Carson  was  warmly  welcomed  by  the 
brothers.  A  few  years  previous  he  had  done  this 
mission  a  great  service,  by  punishing  some  of  their 
rebellious  Indians,  after  the  mission  had  attempted 
to  do  so  and  had  been  defeated ;  and  the  brothers  had 
neither  forgotten  him  nor  his  service. 

As  soon  as  the  greetings  and  introductions  were 
over,  Carson,  who  spoke  Spanish  fluently,  told  how 
the  boys  had  come  from  far-off  New  Orleans  to 
find  one  of  the  brothers,  who  was  in  this  mission  a 
few  years  ago,  and  who  was  known  by  the  name  of 
Brother  Juan,  and  in  whose  care  a  man  by  the  name 
of  Manuel  Vargas  had  left  some  papers,  which  he 
was  to  keep  until  Manuel  Vargas,  or  someone  hav- 
ing authority  from  him,  should  come  for  them ;  and 
then  he  went  on  to  explain  that  Manuel  Vargas  was 
now  dead,  but  that  before  dying  he  had  told  his 
sister's  husband,  Noel  Conroyal,  about  the  papers 
and  had  given  him  authority  to  get  them;  and  that 
the  two  boys,  one  of  whom  was  a  son  of  Noel  Con- 
royal  and  the  other  his  nephew,  had  been  sent  after 
the  papers. 

The  moment  Kit  Carson  finished  speaking  a  tall 


324         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

venerable  looking  priest,  with  an  inquiring  glance 
toward  his  superior,  who  nodded  assent,  stepped  up 
to  Carson. 

"I  am  Brother  Juan,"  he  said,  speaking  in  En- 
glish, "and  I  remember  Manuel  Vargas  very  well. 
But  he  left  no  papers  with  me — Wait — Let  me 
think.  My  memory  is  not  as  good  as  it  once  was. 
There  was  something  about  some  papers.  Now  I 
remember.  Manuel  Vargas  was  very  much  inter- 
ested in  some  papers  that  lloa/v^Tsmrete  a 
sick  man  that  I  once  cared  for ;  but  he  did  not  leave 
them  in  my  care.  They  were  already  mine.  He 
only  wished  me  to  guard  them  carefully,  because  he 
believed  they  contained  some  information  that  would 
be  of  great  value  to  a  relative  of  his,  doubtless  the 
Noel  Conroyal  you  spoke  of.  Possibly  those  are 
the  papers  you  have  come  so  far  to  see.  If  so,  I 
still  have  them ;  and  will  willingly  allow  you  to  ex- 
amine them,"  and  his  eyes  glanced  from  Carson  to 
the  faces  of  the  two  boys. 

"Yes,  those  must  be  the  papers  we  have  come  to 
get,  since  there  are  no  others,"  Dill  answered  ea- 
gerly. "And  can  we  see  them  now,  to-night  ?  You 
see,  we  don't  know  what  the  papers  are  about,  but 
we  know  that  it  must  be  something  very  important, 
or  father  would  never  have  sent  us  half-way  across  a 
continent  to  get  them ;  and — and  we  just  can't  wait 
until  morning  to  find  out.  Please  get  them  at  once 
for  us,"  and  Dill's  face  was  full  of  appeal. 

"The  dear  enthusiasm  of  youth!"  and  Brother 


The  Mystery  of  the  Papers  325 

Juan  smiled  sweetly  down  into  Dill's  excited  face. 
"Yes,  you  shall  see  the  papers  to-night,  at  once. 
Come  with  me.  They  are  in  my  cell/'  and  he  again 
looked  inquiringly  to  his  superior,  who  again  nodded 
assent.  Then  he  led  the  way,  followed  by  the  two 
boys  and  Kit  Carson  and  Captain  Tom,  into  the 
mission  building  and  to  his  cell,  which  was  one  of 
many  opening  into  a  long  corridor  running  the  full 
length  of  the  building. 

"Be  seated,  please,"  and  Brother  Juan  pointed  to 
a  stone  bench,  projecting  along  the  side  of  one  of 
the  walls  of  the  cell.  "We  priests,  far  away  from 
civilization,  have  not  many  of  the  luxuries  of  life," 
and  he  glanced  around  his  bare  cell  with  a  smile. 
"Not  that  we  care  for  ourselves ;  only,  when  friends 
come,  we  would  make  them  more  comfortable. 
Now  will  I  get  those  very  important  papers,"  and, 
going  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  room  from  the 
bench,  he  opened  a  small  door  that  fitted  tightly  into 
the  wall,  exposing  a  cupboard,  where  he  kept  his 
most  cherished  belongings.  For  a  minute  or  two  he 
searched  the  little  shelves  of  the  cupboard;  and  then 
he  turned  to  the  two  boys,  a  small  packet  of  papers, 
tied  with  a  buckskin  thong,  in  his  hand. 

"I  the  circumstances  remember  clearly  now,"  he 
said,  as  he  studied  the  superscription  written  on  the 
outside  of  the  packet;  "and,  in  order  that  you  may 
know  how  these  papers  came  to  be  written,  I  will 
relate  them  to  you."  He  paused  for  a  moment,  his 
eyes  bent  thoughtfully  on  the  packet.  Evidently  he 


326         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

was  recalling  the  long-passed  scenes  connected  with 
the  papers  in  his  hand. 

Rex  and  Dill  could  hardly  sit  still  on  the  bench, 
so  great  was  their  excitement,  now  that  those  mys- 
terious papers,  which  had  been  so  long  a  burden  of 
curiosity  and  anxiety  on  their  minds,  were  actually 
within  reach  of  their  hands. 

"I — I  hope  it  is  the  hidden  treasure,"  whispered 
Dill,  his  eyes  on  the  precious  packet. 

"Or  a  gold-mine/'  declared  Rex.  "Listen!"  and 
the  eyes  of  both  lads  were  fixed  intently  on  the  face 
of  the  brother,  who  now  turned  his  eyes  again  to 
the  little  group  on  the  bench. 

"Eleven  years  ago,"  began  Brother  Juan,  "a  com- 
pany of  American  trappers  brought  to  the  mission 
a  white  man,  whom  they  had  rescued  from  the  In- 
dians after  he  had  been  most  horribly  tortured. 
The  poor  man  knew  nothing.  He  was  insane  with 
pain  and  the  fever.  I  some  skill  have  in  medicine 
and  he  was  given  into  my  care.  The  trappers  did 
not  know  whc  the  man  was.  He  was  in — delirious, 
you  call  it,  and  could  not  tell  so  much  even  as  his 
own  name.  I  feared  he  might  die ;  and  then  might 
come  relatives  inquiring;  and  who  could  tell  them 
who  he  was  ?  The  man  talked  much,  all  wild  talk ; 
but  there  were  names  sometimes  spoken,  and  I 
thought,  if  I  wrote  down  the  names  and  such  of  his 
words  as  seemed  to  tell  something  of  his  past  life, 
that  the  record  might  help  sometime  to  make  it 
known  who  he  was.  This  is  the  record  I  made," 


The  Mystery  of  the  Papers  327 

and  Brother  Juan  tapped  the  papers  in  his  hand 
with  the  finger  of  his  other  hand. 

"And — and  did  the  man  die?"  Rex  asked,  his  eyes 
glowing  with  excitement  and  his  face  drawn  and 
white. 

"No,"  Brother  Juan  replied.  "The  man  lived; 
but,  unfortunately,  when  he  became  well,  he  had  for- 
gotten all  of  his  past  life,  he  did  not  know  even  his 
own  name,  nor  the  name  of  a  friend  or  a  relative. 
Poor  fellow!" 

"Where — where  is  he?"  Rex  was  now  standing 
on  his  feet  and  his  whole  body  was  trembling. 

"I  do  not  know,"  and  Brother  Juan's  face  sad- 
dened. "One  morning  he  went  out  on  a  hunt. 
That  was  ten  years  ago,  and  we  have  never  seen 
him  nor  heard  a  word  of  him  since." 

"Oh,  if  he  was  my  father !"  and  Rex  sank  back  on 
the  bench.  "If  he  was  my  father !" 

"The  papers!  Let  us  see  the  papers,"  and  Kit 
Carson,  his  own  face  tense  with  excitement,  rose 
quickly  to  his  feet  and  stretched  out  his  hand  for 
the  papers. 

"They  are  in  Spanish,  but  not  long,"  and  Brother 
Juan  began  untying  the  buckskin  thong.  "Perhaps 
I  had  better  read  them  to  you  in  English,"  and  he 
opened  the  papers. 

"Yes,"  and  Kit  Carson,  with  his  eyes  on  the  face 
of  Rex,  sat  down.  "But  don't  keep  the  boy  long 
in  suspense.  He  is  almost  wild  now." 

"The  names  the  man  spoke,"  and  Brother  Juan 


328         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

read  from  the  opened  paper,  "were  Margaret— 

"The  name  of  my  mother!  The  name  of  my 
mother !"  and  Rex  again  jumped  to  his  feet. 

"This  name,"  continued  the  brother,  "he  spoke 
often,  the  most  often  of  all.  Next  in  frequency  was 
the  name  Rex — " 

"My  own  name!  My  own  name!  He  was  my 
father !  He  was  my  father !"  Rex  now  stood  di- 
rectly in  front  of  the  brother,  staring  down  on  the 
paper. 

"This  name,"  Brother  Juan's  hands  now  were 
trembling,  "appeared  to  be  the  name  of  a  little  child, 
a  baby  boy.  Another  name  he  often  spoke  was 
Noel—" 

"My  father's  name!"  and  Dill  grabbed  Rex  by 
the  hand.  "He  was  your  father,  Rex!  He  was 
your  father ;  and  he  is  alive !"  he  cried  in  the  greatest 
excitement. 

"You  mean,"  and  Brother  Juan  laid  a  hand  on  the 
agitated  boy's  head,  "that  he  was  alive  ten  years 
ago  and  that  you  hope  the  kind  God  permits  him 
still  to  live.  There  were  other  names — " 

"Did  he — "  broke  in  Rex  excitedly.  "You  nursed 
him — you  cared  for  him — you  must  know — Did  he 
have  a  rifle  and  a  beaver  and  a  beaver  trap  all  tat- 
tooed in  a  red  circle  on  his  upper  right  arm? 
Father  was  marked  that  way.  I  have  often  heard 
mother  describe  the  tattooing." 

For  a  minute  Brother  Juan  examined  the  paper, 


The  Mystery  of  the  Papers  329 

and  when  he  raised  his  eyes  to  the  face  of  Rex  there 
were  tears  in  them. 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "You  have  given  an  exact  des- 
cription of  the  tattooing  on  the  upper  right  arm  of 
the  unknown  man." 

"Then,"  and  Rex  caught  hold  of  the  hand  of  the 
priest  and  shook  it  as  if  he  would  jerk  the  arm  from 
the  shoulder,  "he  was  my  father!  He  was  my 
father!  There  is  no  need  of  reading  more  now! 
He  was  my  father!  Thank  you;  I,  his  son,  thank 
you  for  the  care  you  gave  him.  Now,"  and  he 
turned  to  Kit  Carson  and  Captain  Tom,  "we  must 
find  my  father.  I  will  never  go  back  to  New  Or- 
leans until  I  have  found  my  father,  or  I  know  that 
he  is  dead." 

"Wait — we  have  not  read  father's  letter!  We 
can  read  it  now.  Perhaps  it  will  tell  us  what  to 
do,"  and  Dill,  excitedly  thrusting  his  hand  into  the 
pocket  sewed  to  his  shirt  bosom,  pulled  out  the  letter 
that  he  had  carried  so  long  and  so  far,  and,  with 
trembling  fingers,  tore  open  the  envelope. 

All  now  crowded  close  around  the  two  excited 
boys ;  and  Dill,  after  a  moment's  rapid  glance  down 
the  written  lines,  read  the  letter  aloud. 

This  is  what  he  read: 

MY  DEAR  SON  AND  NEPHEW  : 

When  you  read  this  letter  you  will  have  learned 
the  contents  of  the  papers  held  by  Brother  Juan  in 


330         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

the  Spanish  Mission  of  San  Rafael,  California ;  and 
will  know  whether  or  not  they  give  any  real  clue  to 
my  wife's  long  missing  brother,  the  father  of  Rex, 
whom  we  supposed  to  have  been  killed  by  the  Black- 
feet  ten  years  ago.  If  in  your  judgment  and  the 
judgment  of  Kit  Carson,  whom  I  trust  as  I  would 
my  own  brother,  they  appear  to  identify  this  man 
as  my  wife's  dear  brother  and  Rex's  father,  then 
I  bid  you  search  the  West  until  you  find  him,  or 
learn  positively  of  his  death. 

Kit  Carson  will  aid  you  in  the  search.  Give  him 
your  fullest  confidence  and  obedience.  I  have  given 
him  authority  to  draw  on  Captain  Young  of  Santa 
Fe  for  ample  funds  to  meet  all  expenses. 

I  have  kept  the  purpose  of  your  mission  to  Cali- 
fornia from  you,  until  now,  because  I  did  not  wish 
to  raise  any  false  hopes  in  the  bosom  of  Rex,  unless 
there  was  a  solid  foundation  for  them  to  stand  on. 

Of  course,  if  Rex  should  find  his  father,  he  must 
bring  him  home  with  him,  where  a  welcome  from 
wife  and  sister  and  relatives  and  friends  is  awaiting 
him  that  will  warm  every  drop  of  blood  in  his 
body. 

Now  may  God  speed  you  on  your  mission  and 
bring  you  all  safe  home. 

Your  loving  father  and  uncle, 

NOEL  H.  CONROYAL. 

"There,  we  are  to  search  until  we  find  him,  if 
we  have  to  search  through  the  whole  West;  that 


The  Mystery  of  the  Papers  331 

is  father's  orders;  and  you  are  to  help  us,"  and 
Dill  turned  anxiously  to  Kit  Carson. 

"That  I  will  do  most  willingly/'  Carson  answered 
promptly.  "But  now  I  think  we  have  had  enough 
excitement  for  one  night  and  had  better  return  to 
our  quarters." 

"I  will  accompany  the  two  boys,"  Brother  Juan 
said;  "for  I  know  how  the  son's  heart  must  long 
to  hear  more  of  his  father.  I  will  tell  him  more 
about  that  father." 

Accordingly,  when  they  returned  to  the  quarters 
which  had  been  assigned  for  their  use  by  the 
brothers,  Brother  Juan  was  with  them. 

They  found  the  trappers  all  gathered  in  a  large 
room,  talking  and  laughing  like  a  lot  of  schoolboys 
out  on  a  holiday  frolic,  all  except  Steeltrap  Smith, 
who  was  sitting  moodily  in  a  corner  by  himself. 
The  old  trapper  had  come  to  have  an  almost  fatherly 
affection  for  the  two  boys,  and  the  thought  that  now 
that  the  journey  was  ended,  they  must  soon  separate, 
perhaps  never  to  see  one  another  again,  and  that  he 
must  live  out  his  solitary  life  to  the  end,  alone  and 
uncheered  by  the  voices  or  presence  of  dear  ones, 
wrung  the  very  chords  of  his  heart.  As  the  boys 
entered  the  room  his  face  lighted,  and  he  arose 
quickly  and  hurried  toward  them. 

"Oh,  Steeltrap,  my  father  is  alive !  My  father  is 
alive !"  cried  Rex,  the  moment  he  caught  sight  of  the 
trapper.  "We  have  found  papers  here  proving  it. 
Brother  Juan — " 


332         With  Kit  Carson  in  the  Rockies 

He  stopped  short.  Brother  Juan  had  caught  him 
spasmodically  by  the  shoulder  and  was  staring 
wildly  into  the  face  of  Steeltrap  Smith.  The  next 
moment  Brother  Juan  had  seized  the  sleeve  of  the 
trapper's  right  arm,  and,  with  one  vigorous  jerk, 
had  torn  it  open  from  wrist  to  shoulder,  exposing 
the  skin  beneath ;  and  there,  on  the  bared  upper  arm, 
the  startled  eyes  of  Rex  saw  a  rifle,  a  beaver  and  a 
beaver  trap,  all  tattooed  in  a  red  circle. 

"My  boy!  My  boy!"  exclaimed  the  priest,  his 
eyes  swimming.  "This  is  the  man  I  nursed  back  to 
health!  This  is  your  father!" 

For  a  moment  Rex  stood  staring  from  the  tattoo- 
ing on  the  bared  arm  to  the  face  of  Brother  Juan ; 
and  then,  suddenly  comprehending  what  it  all  meant, 
with  a  look  on  his  face  and  a  yell  that  no  one  present 
will  ever  forget,  he  threw  his  arms  around  the  neck 
of  Steeltrap  Smith,  crying,  "Father,  my  father !" 

Steeltrap  Smith  stood  for  a  minute,  his  mouth 
working,  his  eyes  staring,  but  not  uttering  a  word. 
Then  he  held  Rex  at  arm's  length  from  him,  his  eyes 
searching  his  face. 

"You,  you  my  son!  My  son!"  he  cried.  "O 
God !"  and,  throwing  both  hands  to  his  forehead,  he 
fell  to  the  floor,  like  one  struck  dead. 

In  an  instant  Brother  Juan  was  bending  over 
him,  his  hand  searching  for  his  heart.  In  a  mo- 
ment more  he  looked  up,  a  glad  light  shining  in  his 
eyes. 

"God  is  good.     He  lives,"  he  exclaimed.     "The 


The  Mystery  of  the  Papers  333 

excitement  has  overcome  him.  Now  take  the  boy 
away.  I  will  send  for  him  as  soon  as  his  father 
recovers  sufficiently  to  see  him  again/' 

The  strong  arms  of  Hammer  Jones  almost  carried 
Rex,  who  was  now  weeping  violently,  from  the 
room  and  into  the  corridor  outside;  and  there  the 
boy  refused  to  go  a  step  farther  until  he  had  learned 
how  it  was  with  his  father. 

For  two  long  hours,  Rex  waited  outside  the  door, 
in  an  agony  of  suspense ;  and  then  the  door  opened 
and  Brother  Juan  stepped  out. 

"My  boy!"  and  the  saintly  old  man  threw  his  arm 
around  Rex.  "My  boy,  I  have  wondrous  news 
for  you !"  and  his  face  shone  with  happiness.  "All 
is  well  with  your  father ;  and,  in  the  wonderful  prov- 
idence of  God,  the  shock  has  restored  to  him  his 
lost  memory.  He  wishes  to  see  you.  Come,  I  will 
take  you  to  him,"  and,  holding  Rex  by  the  hand,  he 
lead  the  happy  boy  to  where  his  father  lay. 


Possibly  the  readers  of  this  book  will  be  interested  to 
know  that  their  friends,  Rex  and  Dill,  were  with  Fremont, 
the  Pathfinder,  and  Kit  Carson,  during  those  exciting  days 
when  California  was  wrested  from  Mexico,  and  played 
their  parts  bravely  in  the  great  drama  that  gave  the  Golden 
State  to  the  Union;  and  that  the  author  proposes  to  tell, 
in  another  book,  the  story  of  their  adventures  during  this 
dramatic  period. 


^  Tale  of  the  Alamo 
IN  TEXAS  WITH  DAVY  CROCKETT 

By  EVERETT  McNEIL 

A  Story  of  the  Texas  War  of  Independence 

Illustrated.     I2mo $1.50 

The  tale  tells  of  the  adventures  of  two  boys,  Trav 
and  Tom,  during  that  intensely  dramatic  and  exciting 
period  when  Texas  won  her  independence  from  Mexico 
— the  most  heroic  in  the  history  of  America.  The 
famous  bear-hunter  and  backwoods  statesman  DAVY 
CROCKETT,  and  the  even  more  famous  SAM  HOUS- 
TON, are  the  two  leading  historical  characters  in  the 
story,  while  WILL  TRAVIS,  the  ill-fated  FANNIN, 
JIM  BOWIE,  of  bowie-knife  fame,  DEAF  SMITH,  the 
famous  Texan  scout,  and  other  characters  well  known 
in  Texan  history,  play  important,  if  minor,  parts  in  the 
tale. 

The  story  begins  a  few  weeks  before  the  battle  of 
the  Alamo — one  of  the  most  heroic  in  all  history  ;  carries 
the  reader  through  the  scenes  of  this  battle  and  the  still 
more  terrible  Goliad,  and  reaches  its  final  climax  in 
the  battle  of  San  Jacinto,  where  General  Houston  prac- 
tically annihilates  the  Mexican  army,  captures  Santa 
Anna  himself,  and  wins  the  Independence  of  Texas. 

Great  care  has  been  taken  to  have  all  historical 
data  correct,  and  to  give  accurate  pictures  of  the  men 
and  the  times,  while,  at  the  same  time,  telling  a  story 
that  will  deeply  interest  the  boy  reader  and  make  him 
anxious  to  go  to  his  history  in  order  to  learn  more  of 
the  heroic  men  in  whose  deeds  it  is  hoped  the  tale  has 
given  him  almost  a  personal  interest. 


E.  P.  DUTTON  &  CO.,  Publishers 
31  West  Twenty-third  Street,  New  York 


THE  HERMIT  OF  THE  CULEBRA 
MOUNTAINS 

Or,  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  TWO  SCHOOLBOYS 
IN  THE  FAR  WEST 


By  EVERETT  McNEIL 

Illustrated.     i2mo,  cloth,    . 


•     $1.50 


The  story  of  a  hunting  trip  in  the  Culebra  Mountains,  awarded 
to  two  boys  as  the  prize  for  the  most  manly  conduct  in  the  Yahara 
High  School  for  the  term  then  ending. 

Harry  Ashton  and  Dick  Orson  win  the  prize  and  under  Cap- 
tain Kent's  guidance  start  for  the  mountains.  They  make  the 
acquaintance  of  cowboys  and  Indians  in  the  foothills  and  when  riding 
out  from  a  ranch  with  the  little  daughter  of  the  rancher  are  captured 
and  threatened  with  torture  by  Indians.  The  chief  and  others  of 
the  band  are  killed  by  some  mysterious  agency,  and  they  are  res- 
cued by  the  Hermit  of  the  Culebra  Mountains,  taken  up  into  his 
marvelous  tree-top  home,  where  they  are  besieged  by  the  Indians ; 
they  in  turn  rescue  the  cowboys  who  had  followed  the  Indians,  then 
all  go  through  a  series  of  startling  adventures  and  danger.  The  secret 
of  the  Hermit  is  revealed.  When  in  flight  from  the  burning  for- 
tress of  the  Hermit  they  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  secret  treasure 
cave  of  the  ancients,  but  are  forced  to  continue  their  flight. 

A  thoroughly  real  story  of  the  wild  western  life  when  the  cow- 
boy and  the  Indian  were  natural  enemies  and  the  golden  halo  of 
romance  held  up  the  western  country  as  the  El  Dorado  of  adventure 
and  enterprise  to  the  healthy-minded  man  and  boy. 


E.  P.  DUTTON  &  CO.,  Publishers 
31  West  Twenty- third  Street,  New  York 


THE  LOST  TREASURE  CAVE 

Or,  ADVENTURES  WITH  THE  COWBOYS  OP 
COLORADO 

By  EVERETT  McNEIL. 

Illustrated.     I2mo,  cloth,    .         .         .     $1.50 

The  story  of  two  Wisconsin  schoolboys,  who  go  to 
southern  Colorado  to  secure  a  vast  treasure  known  to  be 
hidden  in  a  great  cave — are  captured  by  Indians,  but 
give  the  Indians  the  fright  of  their  lives  and  escape — 
take  part  in  a  most  exciting  cowboy  Fourth  of  July  cele- 
bration— kill  a  wounded  buffalo  bull  just  in  time  to  save 
a  young  girl's  life — are  kidnapped  by  desperadoes,  who 
are  also  after  the  treasure,  taken  to  the  mountains  and 
threatened  with  death  and  torture — enter  the  marvel- 
lous Treasure  Chamber  of  the  Dead  Kings,  and  find 
— but,  let  the  story  itself  tell  what  they  found. 

A  wholesome  tale  that  will  interest  boys,  and  give 
them  true  pictures  of  cowboy  life  on  the  plains  of  Colo- 
rado before  the  buffaloes  were  driven  away  and  when 
the  Indians  and  the  desperadoes  were  still  an  ever- 
present  danger. 


E.  P.  DUTTON  &  CO.,  Publishers 
31  West  Twenty-third  Street,  New  York 


BOORS  BY 
COLONEL  H.  R.  GORDON 


LOGAN,  THE  MINQO 

A  Story  of  the  Frontier.     i2mo,  cloth,  gilt  top,  illus- 
trated      $1.50 

RED  JACKET,  THE  LAST  OF  THE  SENEGAS 

i2mo,  cloth,  gilt  top,  illustrated  ....     $1.50 

An  exciting  story  of  scouts  and  Indians  in  the  expedition  sent  against  the 
Six  Nations  in  the  year  1779. — The  Outlook. 

A  regular  Indian  story  is  "  Red  Jacket,  the  Last  of  the  Senecas,"  by  Colonel 
H.  R.  Gordon,  author  of  three  other  popular  books  of  Indian  life  and  adven- 
ture. The  scene  is  laid  in  central  and  western  New  York  and  covers  the  in- 
vasion of  the  country  of  the  Six  Nations  by  General  Sullivan  in  1779. — 
Boston  Transcript. 

PONTIAC,  CHIEF  OF  THE  OTTAWAS 

A  Tale  of  the  Siege  of  Detroit.     i2mo,  cloth,  gilt  top, 
illustrated $I-5° 

It  presents  a  skilful  study  of  the  famous  Indian's  individuality,  conveyed 
without  sacrificing  the  rapid  movement  and  engrossing  interest  of  the  narra- 
tive. And  both  as  bearing  upon  history  and  as  an  interpretation  of  character 
the  book  is  of  a  high  order,  while  its  interest  grows  to  the  close. — Congrega- 
tionalist. 

OSCEOLA,  CHIEF  OF  THE  SEMINOLES 

Illustrated.     i2mo,  cloth,  gilt  top        .         .         .     $1.50 

There  are  no  tales  that  interest  boys  more  than  Indian  tales,  and  this  is  one 
of  the  best  sort,  exciting  and  varied,  yet  founded  on  fact  and  life-like. — N.  Y. 
Observer. 

This  lively  and  adventurous  tale  of  the  Seminole  War  will  delight  the 
hearts  of  all  American  boys.  We  are  glad,  too,  to  observe  that  the  gallant 
author  has  the  courage  to  tell  the  truth  of  the  base  treachery  by  which  the 
great  chief  was  ultimately  captured.  We  wish  there  were  more  books  like 
this  for  boys;  and  we  cannot  close  without  paying  our  compliments  to  the 
publishers  on  the  pleasing  dress  in  which  they  have  given  it  to  the  public. — 
Church  Standard. 

TECUMSEH,  CHIEF  OF  THE  SHAWANOES 

i2mo,  cloth,  gilt  top,  illustrated,  312  pages          .     $1.50 

Colonel  Gordon  contributes  a  well-written  story  of  the  famous  Indian 
chief  "  Tecumseh,"  which  is  an  important  book  for  every  boy  and  girl  to  read 
carefully.  >  It  is  far  more  than  a  book  of  entertainment,  it  is  history  told  in  a 
most  fascinating  way  and  full  of  information. — Churchman. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  life,  action,  stirring  adventure  in  the  story,  with 
much  desirable  historical  pabulum. — Buffalo  Commercial. 


E.  P.  DUTTON  &  CO.,  Publishers 
31  West  Twenty. third  Street,  New  York 


GENERAL  LIBRARY 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


AUJ5    2ttp£J 

\y&1 

MU; 

L(DHl\t^!eT                             U-^gKn-i. 

Y.C 


M189753 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


